The Best Thing I Ever Did
by WhatsMyNomDePlume
Summary: Mini-sequel to The Best I Ever Had for FGB.
1. Chapter 1

hi! This was written for some awesome people—the team that donated to FGB waaaay back in November for an outtake to _The Best I Ever Had._I took forever (six months!) to write it and wound up writing a mini-sequel and they were so patient and sweet about it. So thanks so much, you guys. A couple other thank yous: to Jaime Arkin, for putting together the team and the Kates: Kate S, for prereading and always cheerleading this story; and Kate B, for betaing like a champ and putting up with me, the latter of which is truly a challenge. Typos/mistakes are all me, always. Oh, and FamouslySo who makes the prettiest banners for things: http(:/(/)i753(.photobucket.)com/albums(/xx179/)whatsmynomdeplume(/btied021).png with no parethenses.

This thing is six chapters and an epilogue, all pre-written so it'll be posted pretty regularly. ndd be warned, this is even fluffier than last time, I think. Twilight's not mine, etc.

* * *

**The Best Thing I Ever Did**

Chapter One.

"Stop doing that," Edward mutters.

I do not stop doing that—that being splashing my galoshes into the little puddles that form as the February flurries of snowflakes hit the ground and melt. "Aww, don't be a killjoy. I'm singing in the rain!"

"It's not raining and you're not singing," he replies.

I stick my tongue out at him, but since we're both crammed under the umbrella, I accidentally wind up licking his cheek. "Why are you so grumpy?"

"I'm not grumpy," he says, grumpily. "I just want to get to the coffee shop. I'm freezing."

"You should have worn galoshes," I tell him.

"Men don't wear galoshes."

"Well, you're the one complaining about your wet pants."

"I'll give you wet pants," he retorts and then grins, bad mood suddenly cleared. Nothing makes Edward happier than inadvertent innuendo.

When we get to the coffee shop, Em and Alice are already there, discussing the movie he and Jasper saw the night before.

"So, you're telling me Death Squelch Part Six had more to offer than the first five?" Alice asks, disbelieving.

Emmett nods his head. "Yup, these movies are like wine."

"They get better with age?" I guess as I sit on the arm of Edward's chair.

"Nope. Some are good and some are terrible, but either way, who cares? You're definitely going to get drunk," he replies.

"Hey, I heard they might make another Die Hard," Edward tells Emmett, whose eyes widen in excitement.

"No fucking way, man! Really? That's awesome," he says as Edward nods.

"How many times can you die hard anyway?" Alice jokes. "Dude just needs to go jack off, clearly."

I laugh, but the smile wipes right off Emmett's face. "Do not insult John McClane," he growls.

"I'm just joki—"

"Do not. Insult. John McClane."

Alice and I—and possibly every woman that has ever seen _Die Hard_—roll our eyes.

Emmett's phone beeps and he picks it up. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he says, "Oh, so Edward, I um, really need some coffee." His words are way too deliberate and stilted and it sounds strange. It's even stranger because he has a full cup of coffee in front of him.

"Hey, Emmett?" He turns to me. "That thing right in front of you, with the brown liquid? That's coffee."

"Um, yeah but it's cold and I—" Emmett's fumbling is interrupted by the beeping of Edward's phone. He quickly reads it and his eyes widen.

"Cold coffee is terrible," Edward blurts, in a tone just as weird as Emmett's was. His eyes keep darting to me and then back to Emmett.

"Terrible," Emmett agrees, far too seriously.

"A crime upon humanity," Alice intones, mimicking him.

"Come on, let's grab something," Edward says, and they both stand up.

Alice and I exchange looks of bewilderment as they walk away. "Why are they being so weird?" I ask.

Alice frowns and shrugs. "I have no idea. Like why couldn't Edward just get Emmett's coffee for him?" She reaches down to grab his cup and pulls her hand away quickly. "That cup is hot. His coffee is still warm!"

"Really?" I twist around and see Edward and Emmett are not in the short line to order their coffee. In fact, they're nowhere in sight. "What's going on? Where did they go? Do you think they're planning something for the wedding? And they don't want us to know so that we won't tell Rose?"

"What could they be planning? The wedding is less than two weeks away," Alice says. "And Rose would flip if she didn't have utter and absolute control over every part of it. Rose and Emmett might be the ones getting married, but really it's Esme and Rose's wedding."

I laugh, nodding in agreement. "I mean, I can only hope she gets this out of her system before Edward and I… you know. Whatever." I wave my hand.

Alice grins and hugs me to her side. "Aww, look at you. Vaguely insinuating long-term commitment with hand gestures." She places both hands over her heart and pretends to tear up. "You've grown so much."

I shrug. Maybe I have. "I mean, yeah, I guess. It's pretty obvious that we're… yeah. I mean. Yeah. Yeah." Maybe I haven't grown _that_ much. It's not that I don't have faith in Edward or our relationship. It's just that talking about things in sureties feels strange. Almost like we're jinxing it. "Yeah. Whatever."

"Whoa, there. Calm down with the declarations of everlasting love, Bella," she says and I hurry to change the subject. Growing or not, I'm still me.

"Where have those two gone?" I ask, wondering again about Edward and Emmett as I absently check my phone. No messages from Edward, though I do have two missed calls from my mother. Those can wait.

"Maybe they're—" Suddenly, her eyes grow wide. Well, wider than normal. "Oh my god. Oh my god! _Oh my god!" _she shrieks, and I'm halfway torn between running away in embarrassment and asking her if she's maybe having a seizure.

"What? What?"

"You and Edward—aren't you guys about to celebrate your one-year anniversary?"

"Oh… I guess." I think about it more carefully. "I mean, if we take it as the night before Valentine's Day then, yeah, in about two weeks," I say, not understanding.

"Do you think… I mean, it totally makes sense. Don't you think he's planning something?"

"Edward?"

"Yeah! He's planning a surprise for your one-year anniversary," Alice says.

"What surprise could he be planning that he needs Emmett's help? I doubt Em's thinking about Edward's and my anniversary. It's like three days after he gets married."

"It's two days. You're so bad at math."

"What?"

Alice rolls her eyes. "Em and Rose get married on the Saturday before Valentines' Day, which is two, not three, days before Monday, which is your anniversary."

"Fine, whatever. The point still stands. What would Edward be bothering Emmett about this close to his wedding?"

"Maybe…" Alice's eyes widen. "Maybe he's getting advice on how to propose."

I nearly drop my coffee.

"He's not proposing," I tell Alice, sounding more sure than I am. He's not proposing. He's not. He's not.

Is he?

"How do you know he's not?" she asks.

"Because it's not even been a year. We _just_ moved in together like, three months ago!"

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so'? So that's how I know he's not proposing!" I let out a little laugh, but it comes out more like I'm choking.

"But he's Edward!" she says, laughing a little. "And it's you two."

I roll my eyes. "Despite the way you guys have insisted on re-writing history, this is still all pretty new to us."

She looks at me closely, as if she's scrutinizing me and I almost feel like squirming. "I just... I don't get why you're so sure Edward's not proposing."

I'm not, but I'm not about to tell Alice that. I shrug. "It's not even been a year."

"You keep saying that like it means something," she replies.

"Why do you think it doesn't? You don't propose after dating for less than a year."

She snorts and it's such a huge, ugly noise coming from such a tiny, pretty person.

"It's not a law, Bella. It's not like not wearing white after labor day—"

"Because that's the _best_ example of a law."

"Whatever. I mean, there's no set schedule. He'll propose when the time is right."

And suddenly, I'm almost sure Alice is correct. Because with me and Edward, it's always right.

—|—

Edward and Emmett never return after their mysterious dash out of the coffee shop, so I text him to let him know we're leaving to meet Rosalie at the lingerie store.

He responds, _Buy me a gift._

I roll my eyes and write back,_ What size teddy do you wear? And do you like black lace or red?_

_I prefer something in a pastel, like a baby pink. And get the boy shorts kind because otherwise I look pear-shaped._

I start laughing, so grateful to have a boyfriend that doesn't expect me to sleep in garments that seem to get more expensive the smaller they are.

Once again, I've found myself at a lingerie shop again with these two, but this time, that devious Chignon is not there, and I nurse my one glass of champagne slowly, making sure I just sit in a corner as Alice and Rose choose her bridal lingerie. It's sort of weird to me, honestly, that I'm doing this with them. I don't really want the visual of what Rose is going to wear when she has sex with Emmett—he's like a brother to me, not to mention that Edward is actually Rose's brother. Even though that has nothing to do with me, I feel like I can be even more grossed out on his behalf.

"What do you think of this?" Alice asks, waving something tiny at me.

I take it from her and hold it up. "This is supposed to be underwear?" I ask her incredulously. "It's so small and frilly. I'm pretty sure these are the exact size of the curtains my Barbie dream house had."

Alice laughs and tosses something else in my lap. "They also come in black and red, instead of cream and white."

"And these look like the curtains for a Barbie dream house if that house were a brothel." I make a face. "Anyway, isn't wedding lingerie supposed to be white? All virginal even if it's been like, a _decade_ since Rose was actually one?"

"Shut up, Bella," Rose calls from inside her dressing room.

Alice shakes her head and turns back to me. "I meant for you. For… er, your _big_ _night_."

Alice is the human equivalent of hair clogged in a drain; it's only a little annoying at first, so you ignore it. But then it builds and builds till you have a big gunky mess on your hands. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"No, I just mean, wouldn't it be a nice way to say thank you? And then there's engagement sex—that's just a gift for both of you," she continues.

"Who is having engagement sex?" Rosalie asks, coming out of the changing room, thankfully dressed. She tells the saleslady she'll take the pair in her hand and sits down on the sofa next to me. "Seriously, who is having engagement sex? Other than me."

"Edward is going to propose!" Alice blurts excitedly.

I take a deep breath. "Alice _thinks_ Edward is going to propose."

"And when have I ever been wrong about stuff like this?" she asks, indignantly.

"A lot of times," I say, even as Rosalie begins rattling off a list. "The time you thought I'd marry Austin, but he was cheating on me. The time you thought I'd marry Alistair, but he was gay. The time you thought I'd marry Stefan, but I never called him back after our second date, the time—"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Alice says, frowning. "But this is Edward and Bella. We all know that he's totally nuts about you. If you called him up and said, 'hey, want to get married in an hour?', he would, no questions asked."

I smile, and feel incredibly warm inside because she's probably right.

Rosalie sits back on the couch. "Would you be okay with this, Bella?"

Something about the calm, rational way Rose asks this make me actually consider it. "I'm not freaking out… so… maybe? But it's also _marriage_. I'm not exactly carrying on some great legacy of it here."

Alice nods. "Oh yeah. The Renee Higginbotham-Swan-Lee-Dwyer curse. Three marriages for the price of one dysfunctional daughter."

I relax a little; it's so different talking about this with Alice and Rose than it is with Edward. As much as he gets why I'm wary of commitment, he wants it so much from me that it makes him biased. Alice and Rose take it in stride; they're not trying to battle my neuroses so much as just figure out how I can function with them.

"All I'll say is this: can you actually see yourself with anyone but my brother? Is there anyone out there better for you?" Rose asks.

I smile. "Of course not. I don't think there is anyone out there that is better, period."

"Then why wouldn't you marry him?" she asks. "You'll both still be the exactly the way you are right now. You'll still live in the same apartment. You'll still hang out with the same people. You'll still do the same things. You'll just happen to tick a different box on some forms. You don't even have to change your name."

And when she puts it in such simple terms, it seems like the most logical thing in the world, not some scary endeavor that I'm doomed to fail at. Still, I don't know if I'm ready to announce that I am marriage-ready. So instead, I smile at Rose and say, "You're a really good sister."

She smiles back and offers a rare moment of sentimentality. "He's been a good brother."

"I helped too!" Alice whines and I laugh.

"Yes, Al, you helped too. A lot. Thanks guys," I say.

"If we were in a Kate Hudson movie, this is where we'd all start hugging and jumping and squealing around like idiots while some never-going-to-be-as-good-as-the-Spice-Girls-bubblegum-girl-pop anthem plays in the background," Alice notes.

Rose tosses back the rest of her nearly-full champagne glass. "Well, we're not in a Kate Hudson movie."

"And I thank god every day for that," I say.

—|—

But life is never as simple as deciding you're ready for marriage and then having it offered to you. It's almost as if in retribution for always waffling on commitment, now I can't wait for Edward to propose—the only minor detail being that I don't actually whether he is going to or not.

Things with us carry on as normal, though I wind up analyzing everything he says for little hints. I bother him a lot about his weird behavior with Emmett at the coffee shop but he brushes it off and changes the subject, finding a way to distract me. In all the years I've known him, Edward has never not told me something, so my only conclusion is that he can't tell me because he is proposing and wants to surprise me, and I lay off bugging him about it.

And then one night, he says something so otherwise random that I'm positive it's not random.

"You know, if you'd married that moron Jacob Black, you guys would be the Black-Swan wedding," he says, flipping through the TV channels.

I narrow my eyes at him, all the while internally saying _stay cool, Bella_. Edward would not be stupid enough to start my proposal by bringing up the only ex-boyfriend I've ever had.

Would he?

"Why are you talking about Jake?" I ask. Playing dumb, I continue, "Why are you even talking about weddings?"

"Uh, my sister and our best friend's wedding is in ten days."

"Yeah, but why are you talking about _my_ wedding? And to Jake of all people?"

He shrugs. "No reason. Just saying. Black-Swan. I mean, if that's not proof that you guys were never meant to be…"

"It's not proof," I say, rolling my eyes. I move his arm away from his body and snuggle into his side, pulling his arm down around me. "It's just a Natalie Portman movie. About ballet. That you watch every time it's on."

"So?"

"Did I mention it's about ballet?"

He snorts. "It's not. It's about crazy chicks, and lesbian sex, and Mila Kunis. Why wouldn't I watch it?"

"Well," I mutter. "We know how much you like all of those things."

He nods slowly, like he's contemplating my words. "Lesbian sex… is okay. Fun. Whatever. Good for the lesbians. Mila Kunis, I like. But crazy chicks," he says, leaning in to place his hand on the side of my face and kiss my cheek. "Crazy chicks, I _love_." He trails little pecks, just brushes of his lips along my cheek until he gets to my mouth, where he kisses me harder.

We stretch out along the couch, and he slips his hand into my underwear, slowly moving it in tiny little flicks until I can't stand it anymore and pounce on him. Unfortunately, I underestimate the width of the couch when I flip us and he winds up falling off it. And then I fall off it too, right on top of him.

He lets out this deflating "oof" noise when I land on him, and coughs a couple times.

"I'm sorry!" I say, running my hands all over his chest, in a meaningless gesture to check if he's okay. "You alright?"

He closes his eyes, and takes a few deep breaths, making his nostrils flare. Then he opens them and says, "Yup!" before pulling my head down to kiss him and rolling us over, making me squeal. He's so good at taking my pants off I barely notice when he does it, but I am only too aware when he dips down to kiss along my lower abdomen and then moves lower and lower.

We have sex half under the coffee table, and I have to grab onto the edge of it at one point, just to have something to hold on to, because I can't stop moving, not even when he pins one of my thighs down so he can have a better angle.

When he finally tries to sit up to move off me, he hits his head on the underside of the table. I'm so blissed out and boneless that I barely care when he just flops back down on me and falls asleep in his favorite place in the world—between my boobs.

Sometime, a few hours later, he wakes me up and we go to bed. The last thing my sleep-addled brains thinks is that he definitely showed me how much he loves crazy chicks—or rather, just this one in particular. But he still hasn't proposed.

—|—

It's a weird few days. Things aren't tense between us, not really, but he insists on not telling me what he did when he ran off with Emmett. I obviously can't tell him that I pretty much know that he was probably out choosing a ring or something, so for the first time, there is something between us. It's not huge and it doesn't really change anything, but I find myself getting almost frustrated at not being able to be completely free with Edward. I wish I could just tell him to forget about proposing, but now I've gotten used to the idea, and I really, really want him to. I want to see what he'll come up with, what sweet words he'll say. I want to see the smile on his face when I say yes and then, however long later, that same smile when I marry him.

Exactly one week before Rose's wedding, I'm thinking all these things for the millionth time in a jumbled rush of thoughts as I enter our apartment, returning from my final bridesmaid dress fitting. I can hear the shower going, so I know Edward's home. I'm just about to join him when my phone buzzes. My mother is calling me but I'm not really in the mood to talk to her so I just let the phone ring and place it on the table.

And that's when I see it.

A bright blue bag with a white ribbon. Even someone as immune to girliness as I am knows it's from Tiffany's. And it's sitting on our dining room table, next to Edward's keys.

Oh my god.

Edward is going to propose tonight.

—|—

_The minute you close to the door our apartment, I grab you around the waist and sling you over my shoulder._

"_Edward!" you shriek, laughing. "I still have my purse on." I stop walking as you slip your purse off your shoulder and hand it to me. Balancing your weight on my shoulder by placing my hand on your ass, I walk over to the kitchen table and place it on there. "Alright, now you may proceed."_

_I sprint to bedroom and toss you on the bed, practically jumping on you. You're laughing and giddy and it's one of my favorite sounds, but right now, I'm really interested in hearing another type of favorite noise you make. I start to slide up your shirt and you slip off my pants._

"_Wait," you say. _

_I don't really wait. Instead, I just mumble "What?" against your skin as I continue to kiss it. You don't seem to understand that there are very few reasons good enough to make me stop touching you._

"_Is there some sort of special position we should be doing this in?" _

_I pull away from kissing your neck to look at you. "Why would there be a special position?"_

"_I don't know," you say, shrugging. "We just got engaged. Shouldn't there be some sort of…"_

"_Engagement-style sex?" I ask, laughing._

"_Yeah!"_

"_Is there wedding-style sex?"_

"_Duh." You roll your eyes at me. "Missionary. It's like a rule; you have to do missionary on your wedding night."_

"_I don't think that's a rule."_

"_I think it is."_

"_Well, because of this conversation, I'm going to make sure we don't do it missionary," I retort._

_You pretend to shiver and bite your lip in what is meant to be a comical way, but it turns me on anyway. "Oh, I'm marrying such a rebel."_

_I laugh. "If that's what gets you going."_

"_You get me going," you tell me as you remove my shirt. I like the sound of that. "But still… I feel like we should be doing something special. Something different."_

"_Like what?"_

"_I don't know… maybe we should do it outside? We haven't ever really done that."_

"_It's February."_

"_Good point. Maybe dirty talk? We don't really—"_

_I cover your mouth with my lips to get you to stop. "How about no talk?" I say, kissing your breast on top of your bra before nudging it away with my nose and then kissing the same spot again. When you moan, I can feel the vibrations against my hand. I like to make you shake. _

_And after that there's no talk for awhile because there are no words that can adequately describe this. We touch and move, rub and taste, and it's amazing, like it always is. But you asked me for something and I have to at least try to give it to you._

"_I don't know about dirty talk," I say, barely understanding how I form words as I move in and out, which makes you move in a way that blows my mind. "But how about I tell you that I want you like this, always, with me and on me."_

"_Edward," you moan quietly, and move your hips faster. I think that means you like it and that only spurs me on more. _

"_And I'll tell you that whatever you ask me to do, I'll do it. If you tell me to touch you here"—I slide my hand to a place that makes you writhe. "Then I'll touch you here. And if you tell me to lean back slightly and go a little faster, then that's what I'll do. And some things you won't even have to tell me to do." I grab your foot and place it on my shoulder, and the angle is unbelievable, maximum contact, unbelievable impact. I turn my head to suck lightly on your ankle and the result is almost immediate; you still for a moment and then quake, arching your back as you cry out. I _really_ like to make you shake. If I wasn't so busy losing my mind myself, I'd realize I've found a brand new way to turn you inside out._

* * *

Yipee-ki-yay. Come say hi? I've missed you.


	2. Chapter 2

You guys. You _guys. You guyssssssss. _It was **so** good to read your reviews and tweets and messages; thanks so much for the awesome response. A couple people seemed confused, so hopefully, this update clears it up: it wasn't just a one chapter outtake! It's got six in total, with an epilogue. The EPOV picks up right after they get engaged and the BPOV will lead to that point. Spoiler? Oops. Oh well. At least, I didn't tell you about how Alice gets herpes in chapter three. KIDDING. (It's in chapter four.)

thanks to jaime, kate, and lauren. extra special thanks always to katecb, for existing and then also being my friend.

and thank you to any member of the FGB team who still took the time out to review. you guys are too, too good to me.

* * *

**The Best Thing I Ever Did**

Chapter Two.

I'm still standing in the same place, staring at the Tiffany's bag, when Edward walks out of the shower. Without thinking, I blurt out, "If you get down on one knee in that towel, your penis will stick out."

His face creases in confusion. "Well… that's a strange thing to say." He walks over and kisses me quickly, like he always does when I come home. Laughing, he says, "And why exactly am I getting down on one knee?" Uh oh. Oh no. Oh god. He's not going— "Don't guys only do that when they're about to propo…" He trails off when he spies the bag on the kitchen table.

But instead of going into shock-freak out mode like I have, he just laughs again. "That? Those are the wedding rings. Em asked me to hold onto them since I'm the best man." I don't say anything and he snaps in front of my face twice. "Wedding rings, Bella. Rose and Emmett's. Which means _not_ yours and mine."

I wish I could just say something coherent, but my brain is going a million miles a minute. I'm supposed to be relieved that he's not proposing; I'm _me, _Bella Swan, so commitment-phobic that I got skittish when I joined Netflix.

"So it's not an engagement ring?" I say, slowly.

He keeps one hand on the knot on his towel and cups my cheek with the other. "No, it's not. I'm not proposing. I know you have reservations about marriage; I am not going to push you into anything."

"Okay," I say, still completely bewildered and caught off guard. Because yes, I used to be really scared of settling down… until Edward. I'm not that girl anymore; I'm the one who spilled the beans about us dating to our friends; I'm the one who suggested moving in together and I'm the one moved my stuff in here. I'm still an idiot, of course, because I balked when Alice suggested that he might propose, and somehow didn't even realized that in the last few days, I've started looking forward to his proposal. Edward has changed me for the better without even trying. Maybe _because_ he wasn't trying.

"So no proposal, okay? I'm not even going there yet. We're good," he announces and then frowns. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I reply but it's totally without feeling. Because I suddenly am aware of this completely new person that I've just realized I am, but it doesn't seem like Edward has noticed. And I'm not quite sure how to exist in a world where Edward doesn't know me better than myself.

He must notice that I'm a little off because his brow creases in concern. "Look at how freaked out you are with just the suggestion of it."

I don't want to blurt that I'm totally ready for him to propose, especially when he's making it so clear he's not even thinking about it.

It's kind of a blow to my ego, really.

So I nod and he kisses me on my cheek, heading into the bedroom to change. I watch his back, muscled from years of playing racquetball and tennis. My eyes travel down that little 'v' where his hair ends to his trim, taut waist and those damn dimples on his lower back that I love so much and then I force myself to snap out of my haze. I'm being stupid. We were fine before this—better than fine. And now that I'm not waiting on pins and needles for him to propose, we can go back to the way we've always been.

Except… if that whole weird episode with Emmett wasn't him planning a proposal or choosing a ring, what was it?

I follow him into the bedroom. The way he looks right now—hair wet and dark, barefoot in just a pair of dress pants hanging so low I can see the waistband of his boxer briefs—makes me irrationally angry. How dare he not propose? How dare he not tell me whatever it is he's up to? And how dare he look so good while not doing these things he really should be doing?

I cross my arms and stare at him. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"What do you mean 'what do you mean'?"

He grins. "What do you mean 'what you do mean what do you'—"

"No, no." I hold up one finger to stop him. "No being cute. Answer me. Like a week and a half ago, at the coffee shop, you were so weird. You and Emmett just disappeared. You never explained about that. And," I add, with something else I noticed coming to mind. "You've been super weird about your texts lately. You'll get one, read it, and then just act all strange."

For a second, he looks like he's going to give in and tell me. Then he frowns and instead yanks on a shirt. "I wish I could tell you. But I really can't." He pulls on a jacket and gives me a kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to go to work for a couple hours; I might be back late."

I spend the evening in a funk, avoiding a call from my mom, preferring to mope alone. I know Edward as well as I know myself; I know it's not something bad, whatever is going on. Firstly, it's Edward; I don't think he could treat me badly if he tried, and moreover, he'd never try. Secondly, if Emmett is in on this with him, there's a good chance they'll tell the rest of us soon. But for the first time that I can remember, there's a part of Edward's life that I don't know about and it really, really bothers me.

—|—

I am in the middle of my shower, getting ready for work the next morning when Edward comes into the bathroom. He brushes his teeth and then knocks on the shower curtain.

I pull it back and peek out at him. "It's weird that you knocked on the shower curtain."

"Well, I didn't want to interrupt you or startle you."

"What is it exactly that I would be doing that you didn't want to interrupt or startle me?"

"I don't know," he says, shrugging. "Shaving... things?"

I roll my eyes. Even after nearly three months of living together, he's still such a guy about girl stuff. "Anyway."

"Anyway. Can I join you? I overslept and am late as hell."

"Yeah, sure," I say and he strips off his boxers and steps over the edge of the tiny tub. "I didn't think you were actually going to go into work today."

"Why not?" he asks, holding on to my waist as we switch places so he can get under the stream of water.

"Well, because you were there all yesterday evening," I say.

He sighs. "Yeah, well, because I'm taking off Friday for the wedding and leaving early for the rehearsal dinner on Thursday night, I've got to try and get a little ahead on all my stuff."

I stare him down as I squeeze shampoo into his palm and then some into mine. "I know, y'know."

His eyes grow wide as he lathers his hair. "You know?"

I nod, hoping he won't call my bluff. "Oh, boy, do I know."

He squints at me. The shower is getting too steamy and really is too small with the two of us in it. "How do you know?"

I take a shot in the dark. "Rose told me?"

"Rose knows?" He swears under his breath. "Emmett, that big-mouthed jackass. He said he wouldn't tell her. Unless..." He looks at me again and then laughs, flicking aside a few suds that are sliding down my forehead into my eyes. He deposits them on the tip of my nose. "Oh, bullshit, Bella. You don't know."

"Fine!" I wail. "I don't know! But I do know there's something I don't know."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure there's lots of somethings you don't know," he says, grinning.

"Shut up! Why won't you tell me what's going on? Is it bad? Have I done something that makes you think you can't tell me?"

He sighs and I pull him to me, not out of affection, but so we can switch places again and I can rinse my hair. "Are you kidding me?" he says, scoffing. "I feel so weird right now. This is like, the first time in seven years that I can't tell you something. But I made a promise and…." He doesn't finish his sentence and his eye twitches slightly, a sign of frustration.

He seems genuinely contrite and I believe him when he says I shouldn't worry. But I'm also stubborn as hell and I think I can find a way to make him tell me. I put conditioner in my hands and reach up, slowly massaging it into his hair. He closes his eyes and moans as he steps closer, putting his hands on my waist. I increase my efforts and he stoops a little to make it easier to reach. "Edward..."

"Hmmm?"

I don't answer, simply sliding my hands down his chest. I gently scratch his nipple and he jolts, eyes opening. When I reach down and touch him, he understands my intentions and I move my hand faster as he closes his eyes again, groaning. I pull him to me and he kisses me deeply. Without opening his eyes, he smiles against my lips, carefully turning us so my back is against the wall. I yelp from the contact of wet skin on cold tile and he grabs the showerhead, pouring a little warm water as he eases me back to lean on it, so it's not such a startling sensation.

I will admit that shower sex is not my favorite ever since that time I fell out of the tub, but desperate people call for desperate measures. Not that sex with Edward has anything to do with desperation. Well, okay, maybe a certain kind of desperation.

But almost like he hears my thoughts, he stops kissing me and pulls away, narrowing his eyes at me. "Is this a sex bribe?"

I try not to look guilty. "Maybe."

"I knew it. You hate shower sex! You're trying to play me!"

I shrug. "Don't hate the player—"

"Hate the game?" he interrupts.

"No, I was going to say: don't hate the player, hate the player's boyfriend who won't tell her what's going on!"

"I thought you were above using sex as a bribe."

I shrug. "Well, I am, now that I know it doesn't work."

He sighs, resting his forehead on my shoulder. "Trust me, if I wasn't sworn to secrecy, I would tell you." He kisses the side of my neck in apology.

I hug him to me, grabbing the showerhead and pouring it over his hair to rinse the conditioner out. I can tell he really does want to tell me; perhaps I shouldn't be a brat about this. "It's okay. You're running late anyway."

He springs up. "Oh shit! I am!" He kisses me on the cheek. "Thanks for sharing the shower."

"Raincheck on the sex till this evening?" I ask as he towels off.

He grins and says yes as he leaves the bathroom. Then two seconds later, he comes back in with an apologetic look. "Can I raincheck on the raincheck? I think I'll probably have to work late."

"Get out of the bathroom, Cullen," I say, in mock disgust. "Turning down sex. I can't believe I shared my shower with you."

"Love you."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Hey, Bella?" he says, pausing in the doorway.

"Yeah?"

"Don't… I'm sorry I can't tell you. Remember that, okay?" His mouth is in a small line and he leaves without an answer from me. All of a sudden, I'm getting a little scared.

By the time I finally get out of the shower, Edward's heading out the door, his shirt unbuttoned over an undershirt, his tie in one hand and a piece of toast in another.

"Edward..." I say without really realizing it.

He stops in the doorway and turns. "Yeah?"

"It's not... You're not..." Now that I've started this sentence, I don't know how I can actually say it out loud. I mean, it's not really something that is actually worrying but I'm far too used to telling Edward everything on my mind to censor even the most random of thoughts. "It's not another girl, right?"

He makes a face of disgust that is only usually seen on five-year-olds who don't get the Christmas gift they want. "Bella, I love you but you say a lot of dumb things. This is, by far, the dumbest."

I shrug and laugh a little. "Yeah, I know... Never mind." I wave a hand to dismiss it.

He smiles and rushes out the door, leaving me feeling placated. But two minutes later, just as I've dropped my towel to put underwear on, he strides back into the bedroom.

"I thought you left," I say.

"I did. And I came back." He walks right up to me and takes my face in his hands, ignoring the fact that I am buck-naked.

"Aren't you running late?"

His expression is a little intense as he says, "Doesn't matter."

"Your boss is going to yell at you," I tell him.

He doesn't bat an eye. "Don't care. What I do care about is that you never ever say anything like that again, okay?"

I laugh and fiddle with one of the buttons on his shirt, too embarrassed to look at him. "I know. I wasn't really worried, I'm just nosy and sometimes tempted to emotionally blackmail you."

"Okay. "

"Okay."

"Don't emotionally blackmail me unless it's _really_ important, okay?" he says, pulling my chin up so I have to look at him. I don't think he's hurt that I said that, but he's caught off guard. I immediately regret my words.

"I promise, I won't," I tell him sincerely.

He takes my faces in his faces, brushing away wet strands of my hair with his thumbs. "This thing I can't tell you… I mean, it's important but you'll know about it soon."

"Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you too. So much, Edward."

"And you know you're it for me."

"You're it for me, too," I say. I lean forward till our foreheads are touching and hold onto his wrists with my hands.

"And... nice breasts," he says, but I can tell he's still a little bothered.

I laugh but then slip my arms around him and pull him close. "I promise you I wasn't thinking when I said that. I'm so sorry I did. It was a dumb thing, and I know I do a lot of dumb things, but not this, never again. I don't doubt you at all; it was just insecure-girl thing, just like oh, my boyfriend is hiding something from me and yesterday he told me he's not proposing and man, if I read about this in a column in Cosmo, then I'd be like, 'your boyfriend is cheating'. But that's dumb because you're not some other girl's boyfriend, you're _my_ boyfriend and you're you and you would never."

He smiles, looking relieved but also a little taken aback. "Okay. That's a lot of words." He takes a deep breath and scratches the back of his head. "But, let's take this one at a time. Yes, I am your boyfriend. And no, I would never. What to tackle next? Let's go with a promise that you'll never read Cosmo again ever. "

"Alice makes me, sometimes."

"You won't hear me say this often, but I forbid it." He wags his finger at me.

I grin. "I'm so okay with that."

"And lastly, it really shouldn't bother you that I'm not proposing. I thought we set things straight yesterday; it's got nothing to do with wanting to marry you and everything to do with not freaking you out, okay?" He kisses me and then sighs, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. "Alright, now I'm _really_ late." He kisses me again. "Bye, love you."

"Love you."

"Oh and… nice breasts."

I smile as he walks away but suddenly my mind is racing. He's just out the bedroom door when, again before really thinking, I say, "What if I didn't freak out?"

He does a 180 so fast, he almost falls. "What?"

"Maybe you should propose," I blurt. I'm not quite so sure where these words are coming from, except that I want Edward to know. He's always known everything about me and this —that I'm ready for him in every way—is something he should definitely know.

Edward's eyebrows almost disappear into his hair. I think I've actually shocked him for the first time ever. "What?"

"Maybe you should propose?" I repeat, a little less confident—or maybe less crazy—each time I have to say it.

He squints at me playfully. "I'm sorry, you look like Bella." He walks over to me and smells my hair. "And you smell like Bella." I think he means to just give me a peck but the kiss lingers. "Mmm. And you taste like Bella." He pulls away slightly. "But you don't talk like Bella."

I shrug. "I don't…"

"You don't…" he prompts.

I mean to say 'I don't know why I said that', but instead what comes out is: "I don't think it would be a bad idea."

"Okay, you're definitely a robot that has replaced my girlfriend," he says. He raises one of my arms then puts it down, then down the same for the other, making me aware, once again, that I don't have a stitch of clothing on. He spins me around and moves my hair over my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" I ask, laughing a little because the way he's running his fingers over my back tickles.

"Looking for a control panel, Bella-bot," he replies. I laugh again and turn around to face him. "So when you mentioned me proposing last night, it wasn't because you were worried I would? It was because you _wanted_ me to?"

"Well, I mean, it's not exactly a huge surprise that we'll get married one day, is it?" I ask.

He smiles. "It's not even a small surprise. I just didn't know you were ready right now."

"I guess I am. Or maybe I'm not… I'm…" Suddenly, the freak out I've been expecting all along finally hits me. Have I just told him to propose? Like a proposal for a proposal? Who does that? Only an idiot like me. I mean, this is marriage! On one hand, I think what Rose said is totally true; with me and Edward it won't really be any different. But on the other hand, it's _marriage_ and you're supposed to think it through because it is a big deal. You only get married once.

Unless you're my mother, and then you get married three times.

What if I'm my mother?

But, no, I'm not my mother. Or at least, I don't think I am. Plus, it's _Edward_.

But what if my dad was my mom's Edward and they were fine and fun and friends and had great sex—ew, why am I thinking of my parents having sex?—and then my mom suggested my dad propose and then he did and then everything got ruined and—

"Bella, _stop_," Edward says, holding both hands up.

I look at him. "I will never understand how you know just when I'm freaking out."

He chuckles. "You don't realize this but you sort of act it out."

"What?"

"Like, first you'll look confused and then worried and then scared, and then you'll go back to confused, all without saying or hearing a word."

"Oh."

He rubs my arms up and down soothingly. "Anyway, there's no need for you to freak out about what you just told me."

I glance up at him. He looks totally calm. "There isn't?"

"Nope," he says, putting his hands on my waist and pulling me close. "I get it."

"You do?" Because I don't even get it. But then again, that'd be just like him. To get the situation, to get me, even when I don't.

"Yeah." He holds my gaze and speaks very slowly. "You were just joking."

I'm confused. "I was?"

He nods. "Sure… you were just joking." He says it again, very slowly and significantly.

"I was just… joking," I repeat, mimicking his inflection exactly.

"Yup. And I mean, if I _happen_ to take that joke seriously, then…" he trails off.

"Then…" I repeat.

"Then."

"Then."

There's this moment that follows: I'm looking at Edward and he's looking back at me and life is absolutely perfect. _We're_ absolutely perfect. I feel like we need to celebrate somehow.

As if reading my mind, Edward asks, "Should we have sex now?"

"Well, I guess you're late to work anyway."

"And you're naked anyway."

I look down and nod. "Yeah, I just realized that. I'm impressed you were able to focus."

"Are you kidding?" he says as he sits at the edge of the bed and pulls me down to straddle him. "That was motivation."

I laugh and lean in to kiss him, sliding his still-unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders. He strips off his undershirt and grabs me, pulling me down on the bed. Undoing his pants and taking off his boxers, he lays his body on top of mine and kisses me deeply.

He rears back and looks at me, a strand of hair falling in his eyes. I reach up and push it aside, and for a moment, we just stop moving to look at each other, huge, matching grins overtaking our faces.

"Why are you smiling?" he asks me.

"Why are _you _smiling?" I shoot back.

"Um, we're about to have sex. Why wouldn't I be smiling?"

I laugh. I'm suddenly euphoric between the feeling of Edward over me, with me in every way and the realization that we'll get to be like this for the rest of our lives.

We're really going to do this.

—|—

_You're lying with your head on my shoulder, sliding your finger along the flesh between each of my ribs. Suddenly, you sit up and straddle me, the most pleasant of surprises. _

"_I feel like we should write our vows or something," you say._

"_We got engaged—" I grab my watch from the nightstand. "An hour ago. Wow, an hour." I allow myself to be pleased with my stamina and you roll your eyes._

"_Yeah, but I mean, what about striking while the iron is hot and all?"_

"_That's fine. But aren't we supposed to do them by ourselves?"_

"_Please. We couldn't even get engaged without telling each other about it first. You practically cried when you couldn't tell me about the whole… _thing_ last week. The idea that we're going to actually ever going to be able to keep a secret from each other is both unbelievable and kind of unromantic." You shrug. "I like telling you things. It's fun."_

_I smile. I agree but I always like to argue with you anyway. "Surprises are fun, too."_

"_Yeah, but there's always a jack-in-the-box."_

"_A jack-in-the-box?"_

"_Yeah. Something that's supposed to be a fun surprise in theory, but turns out of just make you cry because clowns scare the shit out of you. And because you think that it's actually a dead clown coming to get you, because how could the clown breathe in that box and you're the first one to release them and—"_

"_Okay," I say. I motion for you to take a deep breath and you do. I grin. "I never knew that about you. It's weird."_

"_Yeah, I guess it is weird when there's still things we don't know about each other. I always feel like I know everything about you."_

"_No, I meant the whole jack-in-the-box thing is weird."_

_You make a face and flick me off—oh no, you're not giving me the middle finger. You're actually holding up your ring finger. I laugh. "Oh you're going to see all sorts of terrible things now that you've bound yourself to me for life, Cullen."_

"_There it is. My first vow. I vow to bind myself to you for the rest of my life."_

"_I vow to bind myself, too." You frown. "That sounds wrong."_

"_I vow that should this turn into the initial signs that you're developing a latent interest in bondage, I'll keep an open mind."_

_You crack up. "Oh, I like this game. Vows we can't really vow. I vow… to make sure I never choose cake over sex with you."_

"_I appreciate that. In return, I vow that I'll find a way to combine the two one day." I waggle my eyebrows and you press your palm to my cheek, teasingly turning my face away as you laugh. _

"_You look like such a dirty old man when you do that."_

"_Soon I'll be _your_ dirty old man."_

"_I vow…" You think for a moment and then smile wickedly. "I vow to get over my aversion to doggie-style."_

_I think my jaw might hang open a bit, because you grind into my hips a tiny bit as you say that. On purpose, because you're such a tease and I love it. I may be getting older, but it's like a single look from you can get me back up as quickly as when I was a teenager._

"_Really?"_

_You grin. "Really. I mean, it's more the implication of the name."_

"_So you've said."_

"_It's stupid but still," you say. You shift around a bit, raising an eyebrow when you feel that I'm getting a bit hard. I'm still a little tired though, not quite ready for round two yet, so I bring my knees up so you can use them as a backrest. "I don't want to be a dog. That's just so unsexy."_

"_It's not an insult. And it's not even solely directed towards you. I mean, if you're a dog, then I'm a dog, too."_

_You laugh. "How very _The Notebook_ of you."_

_I frown. "Was that English?"_

_You swat me lightly. "It's from the movie, _The Notebook_. That one with Ryan Gosling?" I shrug. "And Rachel McAdams?"_

"_Oh, she's hot."_

"_She totally is. So you remember the scene where—"_

"_I still have no idea what movie you're talking about."_

_You roll your eyes. "Okay, well, there's this scene and they're teenage sweethearts and she tells him to say she's a bird."_

"_Why?"_

"_I don't know. It's just being playful."_

"_Um, okay."_

"_It's cute!"_

"_If you say so."_

"Anyway_, she tells him to say she's a bird, and then—it's sort of really romantic, even though it's cheesy—he says, 'if you're a bird, I'm a bird.'"_

_I give you a skeptical look. "That's what you find romantic? After that whole proposal, you find _that_ romantic?"_

"_It's cute. Not as awesome as your proposal, no, but still."_

"_Fine." I pause. "How'd we start talking about this? We were talking about sex—doggie style, to be specific—and you diverted us. To birds."_

_You laugh. "Well, now we're talking about birdie-style."_

_I make a face. "How do birds even have sex?"_

_You shrug. "I have no idea." We're silent for a few moments; I have no doubt you're contemplating the mechanics of bird sex but I can't stop thinking about how awesome this is. I'm engaged to a girl who is willing to talk about bird sex with me. Who'll agree about hot Hollywood actresses. Who thought she was commitment phobic but told me to propose bare-ass naked and still makes fun of me, years later, because I made the mistake of once calling Yanni talented. _

"_How about this for a vow?" I say. "I vow that if you're some crazy girl who makes up weird names for sex, then I'm the guy who loves you anyway."_

_You smile and say, "A little long-winded. But a sweet, if not verbose, sentiment."_

_I stretch my legs out and sit up to kiss you. "How about 'I vow that if you're Bella, then I'll love you.'"_

_You smile and kiss me back, then pull away suddenly. "But what if I get amnesia and don't remember my name or who I am? Then I won't be Bella. That happened to Rachel McAdams too."_

"_Seriously? This must be one long movie."_

_You chuckle. "No, this is a different one. But based on books by the same author. I think."_

"_Why is this author such a downer?"_

_You shrug. "I don't know but if he was scripting our lives, there'd definitely be some tragedy. I'd learn I had a heart disease just as we got together. It's symbolic: I learned my heart was defective just as I finally learned to use it."_

"_Wow. That's deep."_

"_Right? And you'd go deaf."_

"_What's that symbolic of?"_

"_It's not. It's retribution for listening to Yanni."_

_I'm sure we could continue talking for hours—we never seem to run out of things to say to each other. But you tug on the back of my neck and pull me toward you and I don't think you want to talk anymore. In fact, when you slide off my lap and pull me to the edge of the bed, arranging us in a very particular position that I won't name even in my head since you don't like it, I think you're interested in making one of our vows start right now._

* * *

Let's get this outta the way. _I_ know that The Vow isn't a Nicholas Sparks books; but apparently, Bella doesn't. Also: I google imaged Yanni, and he shaved his mustache. I don't quite know how to deal with that.

I'm whatsmynom on twitter. come say hi, or leave me a review, please? I love love love hearing from you guys, even if i'm the absolute worst with replying.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to all of you who reach out. whether you're leaving reviews, sending messages, reccing the story or even just chatting with me on twitter about general nonsense—I love it!Writing silly little stories is great, but fic is writing + you guys and that's so, so fun.

Also some more clarification because I'm a lazy/bad writer: Emmett & Rosalie got back together/engaged in the year beween TBIEH and TBTIED. So did Alice and Jasper. I don't really focus on them because to me, this is a story about E/B, but I guess I should have mentioned that, so sorry.

* * *

**The Best Thing I Ever Did**  
Chapter Three.

_All my life, I thought I knew what sex was, knew what love was, knew the difference between the two._

_But here you are. You're letting me pound into you, my hand curled around your shoulder to keep you in place. You're giving back just as good, with your leg stretched like that, and your hips moving so fast and steady. _

_The slide of your skin against mine so fast, so hot that it feels like you're setting me on fire. The look on your face of such utter pleasure that you're scratching at the sheets to express it. Those tiny words, _more_, _yes_, _like that, like that, just like that_, _please, please_, that are directions and requests. That slick, steady motion, the smell of sweat and salt, that hypnotic motion, in, out, in out, let's end this right now, no, let's keep going forever. This is sex._

_But with you, it's love too. It's both. And with you, love is also so much of the dumb, simple things I never even noticed before. Like how you sit on the arm of my chair at the coffee shop because you don't want to be too far away. It's the way you always kiss me a little longer if we've been apart, it's you dancing with me at my sister's wedding, and everyone who saw us thought "they're next". It's that we _are_ next. Love with you is sex and it's also the nights we don't have sex, when we do nothing or we do ridiculous things, like the time you tried to braid the hair on my happy trail. _

_I don't know how it works for other men, whether they find this and it's a revelation or something they knew was going to happen all along. Maybe they never find it. But that fairytale that girls look for, those stupid Prince Charmings who ride horses and sweep them off their feet? Most men don't think of that. Men want sex that tells them they're gods, men want kisses and touches that remind them they're men, they want happiness and laughter that lets them still be boys. At least, that's what I want. And I get that with you._

_On top of that, you've got a great rack._

_And of course, there's this:_

"_It's just… doesn't it get in the way? I mean, it's _floppy," _you're saying, a little while after we've finished for the second time. You're mumbling a bit, drifting off to sleep but you just don't quite want to stop talking yet and I don't want you to. _

"_It's not _floppy!" _I say, mildly insulted._

"_Okay, not floppy," you concede. You roll over on your side to face me as you tuck both your hands under your cheek. "It's… dangly. I don't have anything that flops _or_ dangles."_

"_Thank God."_

"_They're just so strange. Like you're just walking around, and there it is, in your pants, a…"_

_"Bella, it's been a year now. Don't you think you should be able to say the word?" _

_You look at me and then we both look down at my crotch._

_You scrunch up your nose. "It's not so much a problem with saying the word as it is word choice," you say. You shift on to your stomach and slide a hand across my hips, tucking it firmly into the waistband of my boxers. It's how you fall asleep every night._

_"Word choice?" I ask._

_"Yeah. Like... penis is too clinical. Cock is too porno. And dick is an adjective." I raise an eyebrow but you're talking with your eyes closed, half asleep. "As in: man, it was really dick of you to tease me about my inability to name your genitalia."_

_I make a face. "Don't say 'genitalia' please."_

_"What do you want me to call it?"_

_I shrug, fluffing up the pillow as I get ready to go to sleep too. "I don't really care what you call it… as much as I care what you do to it." No way in hell I can go for a round three tonight, but I can't __not tease you. "Call it whatever you want. A cock. A dick. A knob. "_

_Suddenly, you jolt to life. You bat your eyelashes and put on a high, saccharine voice. "Can I call it a flower if I want to?"_

_I groan. Your terrible, terrible jokes shouldn't surprise me with how bad they are, but somehow, they still do._

_"What, quoting Bambi doesn't turn you on?" you ask._

_"Well, maybe if it was Thumper..." I can make bad jokes too._

_"Fine," you say, yawning and closing your eyes again. You reach a little lower and pat my dick. "See you in the morning, Thumper." It jumps to attention a little because even if I can't go again doesn't mean I don't want to. You snicker and soon you're asleep._

_And there it is. Sex and love and you; they've become the same to me._

—|—

I've never been a patient person. I mean, I've put things on 500˚ heat in the oven because it said it'd take four hours to cook at 250˚ and I thought I could cut my time in half (and eat sooner). When I was a kid, I once even wound all the clocks in the house two hours early so it could be midnight and I could open Christmas gifts early.

I just never thought that the thing I'd be so impatient for was my boyfriend's marriage proposal.

Another thing I've never been is good with is secrets. Not my own, definitely not other people's, but most of all, I've never been good at knowing someone else knows a secret when I don't. Being that I'm selectively oblivious, this happens often, but that doesn't mean it drives me any less crazy. And it's Edward; he knows me better than I know myself, so I do trust that he's not telling me whatever is going on for a reason. I just don't necessarily enjoy it.

But I make a valiant effort of trying to get as much joy out of this whole thing as possible. It's a good thing Edward doesn't mind being annoyed by me—likes it, even—because in the days following our agreement, for lack of better word, to get engaged, I bug him like crazy. I mean, I could be the da Vinci of pestering, so innovative and brilliant are my ways of annoying him. At 11am, when I know he gets out of his daily briefing meeting, I send him a text, asking if he's going to propose. At 3:30 in the afternoon, he gets an email, asking the same thing as the text. Every night when he comes home, I ask him if he's gotten the messages, and when he answers—well, he did the first day, now he knows better—I ask him why he didn't reply and what his answer is. Same with the emails, right before we go to bed.

I haven't been so dedicated to something so futile—because Edward is as stubborn as I am, especially about _me_—since I was eleven and tried to get my dad married to the secretary at school (not because I thought she'd make my dad happy, but because I thought if she was my stepmom, I could skip school whenever I wanted without an excuse.)

And it's not just the emails and texts. It's in person as well. Edward and I are just hanging out one night when I decide it's been way too long—at least an hour—since I've bothered him. He's reading some mystery novel so I lie down on the couch and awkwardly slide across it until my head is in his lap, under his book.

He moves the book to look down at me.

"What do you—no, Bella, don't ask aga—"

"Are you proposing yet?" I interrupt.

Edward purses his lips. They quirk slightly at the ends and that's what keeps me annoying him; the fact that he secretly loves it every time I ask him. "No."

"Okay," I say. "Carry on with your reading." He puts the book back between us. I wait about thirty seconds before pushing it down. "How about now?"

He rolls his eyes. "No."

"Fine." I remain quiet, checking my phone—there's another missed call from my mom. I've been avoiding her calls lately, and I know I should call her back, especially since I'm not doing anything right now. So of course, I decide I'll do it tomorrow. And then I get bored and I miss bugging Edward, so I say, "Hey Edward—"

"I'm not proposing until I am at least done with this book!" he bursts. The book is like three times the size of the longest Harry Potter book, which is the longest thing I've ever read. No way I can be so patient.

"Well let me help you out: the butler did it," I tell him.

He slams the book shut and looks at me. "Seriously?"

I laugh. "I don't know. I just took a guess because there's a butler on the cover. Would that ending even make sense?"

"Possibly," he grits out. He flips to the last few pages and reads a few lines. "Yeah, I think you might be right." He shuts the book and sighs. "Thanks a lot."

"You're welcome. Who wants to read such a long book anyway?"

"I do. That's why I was reading it."

"Are you going to propose now?" I ask.

"Do you have nothing better to do than keep asking me that?" he asks. Again, he'd be a lot more convincing that he was actually annoyed if he wasn't smiling.

"Nope." I shrug. "If I had a datebook, it'd be filled with entries saying 'annoy Edward' from now until, oh, the end of time."

"If you had a datebook, it'd be 1994," he retorts. He hands me the book. "Here, you read it."

I sit up and page through it from start to finish. Then I hold it by the spine and shake it.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

I muster the most guileless look I can manage. "You mean you haven't put a ring in the book to propose to me with?"

"I'm going to kill you," he practically growls.

"What if I offer you a deal?" I ask.

He gives me a droll look. "You already tried a sex bribe." He thinks about it for a second. "And you've also already tried withholding sex."

"No, not that kind of deal. What if you either propose _or_ you tell me what this big secret is?" I say.

"Why would I do that when I already am doing neither?" he points out. Damn him for having logic.

I shrug. "Because you love me."

He shakes his head. "No dice. And I thought you said you'd stop emotionally blackmailing me?"

"I'm trying, but it's a hard habit to break. It helps that it's so wholly unsuccessful though. Just like the rest of my life." I slouch and pout, adopting my usual wallowing stance.

"Why, exactly, is your life so wholly unsuccessful?" he asks, falling right into my trap.

"Because despite what amounts to _begging_, my boyfriend won't freaking propose!"

He stands up from the couch, shaking his head. "If you're not going to shut your mouth, I'm just going to have to fill it for you."

"That's really crass innuendo," I tell him, raising one eyebrow. "Even for you." I know that's not the way he meant it but I really like being the one getting a rise out of him for once. "I mean, if you want a b.j., just propose. Or tell me this giant secret."

"Wha—no! That's not what—I meant I'm going to make dinner," he says, taking one step towards the kitchen before turning back to me. "Wait, there's a blow job on the table?"

I turn and look at the dining table. "No, there isn't."

"Ha ha."

"But there _could_ be…" I say, trying to be as alluring as possible.

"Really?" He's all ears, totally perked up. Things besides his ears have perked up too.

"Really. On the table, or right here in the living room…" I say. "Anywhere."

He crosses his arms and cocks his head to one side, looking off somewhere into the distance. "Hmm…"

"'Hmm…' what?" I ask.

"Hmm, what do I like more, my advantage or your mouth?"

I crawl from where I'm seated across to the other end of the couch, and hook two fingers into the waistband of his jeans, pulling him towards me. "How about my mouth _on_ your advantage?" I ask, palming him lightly.

He groans, closing his eyes as he leans into my hand, and says, "That doesn't really make sense although I do appreciate the wordplay and innuendo."

"What can I say? I can do quite a bit with my tongue," I reply. I'm really laying it on thick here, acting like someone in a bad porn movie. I mean, if I were watching this whole exchange, I'd probably be laughing at what an idiot I am acting like. Why does Edward, or any guy for that matter, find this sexy? _Foreplay For Dummies_ probably has better lines than I do. But I guess he doesn't really care about the quality of the opening act, as long as the band he bought the ticket to see is fantastic. "So have you decided yet?"

He cracks one eye open and peers down at me. Continuing with my bizarre seduction act, I flutter my lashes at him. He opens his other eye and frowns down at me. "What are you doing?"

"Seducing you…?" I ask uncertainly and he cracks up.

"You look like you have something in your eye. In both of your eyes."

I stop moving my hand and sit back. "Well, you look like that guy."

"What guy?"

"That guy that just blew—no pun intended—his opportunity to get head to make fun of his girlfriend," I say.

He looks so broken-hearted, you'd think I just kicked a puppy. And he was the puppy. "Aw crap."

"Actually, I changed my mind."

His eyes light up. "You did?"

"Yeah. The pun _was_ intended."

He sighs. "It's just as well. I generally prefer prioritizing my heart over my head."

"Apparently, you prioritize your heart over getting head."

He snorts as he walks into the bedroom, presumably to change out of his jeans into something less restrictive. "What do you want to eat?"

I get up to look in the fridge. There are five items: a box of Godiva truffles, a six-pack of beer, a bottle of champagne and a slab of smoked Gouda—well, that's not actually _in_ the fridge anymore, since I've started munching on it—and something that could be old yoghurt or sour cream or… something.

I frown. It's all food but somehow, it's not really edible. I call Edward into the kitchen and tell him that.

"Yeah, okay," he says, dipping his head down to my hand to steal a bite of cheese. "And that's not yoghurt."

"What is it?"

"It's Alice's flan."

I wrinkle my nose. "Alice made flan? When?"

"She made a flan as part of her New Year's resolution to cook more."

"She had a resolution to cook more?"

"Yeah," Edward says, shrugging, as he grabs some meatballs out of the freezer. "It only lasted a week or so."

I can't decide what horrifies me more—that the thing in our fridge is over a month old or that Alice cooked. And of all things to cook, she made _flan_.

Edward manages to whip up some dinner, finding some stuff in the freezer and the pantry. But I'm having too much fun annoying him, so rather than scarf it down like I normally do, I pick at my pasta, hoping he'll notice.

He does. "What are you doing? Is it not good?"

"Oh no," I say, innocently. "It's fine. It's good." I violently smash a meatball and then slice two more in half before smashing those, too.

"Then why aren't you eating? Why are you cutting all your food up?"

"I wouldn't want to choke," I say.

"Choke on what? Soft meat?" he asks, then makes a face. "There's a really ugly phrase: soft meat."

I laugh but then remember that I have a greater mission: to annoy Edward into proposing to me. "So, what you're telling me is that you _haven't_ put an engagement ring in one of the meatballs?"

He glares at me, opening his mouth to say something before shutting it. He does it again before he stabs two pieces of pasta and shoves them in his mouth. He jabs his fork in the air in my direction as he speaks. "I know you're just doing this to annoy me. I'm not going to get annoyed."

"You're already annoyed," I remind him.

He thinks about this for a moment. "This is true. But I'm not going to cave. You may run things in this relationship, but this is _my _territory. You told me I should propose and I will. On my own terms. In my own time."

"Well then, I will continue to annoy you. On your terms, in your own time. Whenever, wherever."

"Okay, Shakira."

"Well, my hips _are_ rather truthful."

He laughs but tries to cover it up by shoving more food into his mouth. For as good-looking as he is, he is a really ugly eater.

We eat in silence for a few moments before Edward puts his fork down with a clang. "And _really? _A meatball proposal, Bella?"

I shrug. "I mean, it'd combine my two favorite things."

"What? Meat and balls?" he snickers and I roll my eyes. He's got the sense of humor of a horny fifteen year old.

And I'm a little irritated that he cracked the first balls joke.

"Uh, food and you."

"Oh, I can combine food and you in a lot better ways." He waggles his eyebrows, making him look like the pervert he really is.

"Oh yeah?"

"I mean, I'll have me some Swan flan right now," he jokes and I stick my tongue in disgust.

"Ew, flan is just not a sexy food."

He laughs. "This from the girl who wanted a meatball proposal. I feel like it's a general rule that no proposal story should include the word 'balls' in it. Whether it's meat, sport or uh, 'man meat'." His face of disgust indicates he likes the phrase 'man meat' about as much as I do.

"And by 'man meat', you mean… _meat_," I say, doing my best Steve Buscemi impression and making a really creepy face. Edward laughs, accidentally snorting into his mug of beer, which sprays all over his face.

I'm really excited to do this for the rest of my life.

If he'd only propose already, dammit.

—|—

The next night, Thursday, is the rehearsal dinner at Rose's favorite restaurant. Tomorrow we all drive up and get a bit of rest before the wedding on Saturday and then Rose and Em leave for their honeymoon on Sunday as the rest of us come back home. Edward leaves work early tonight for the dinner, so we meet up at the subway stop between our offices and head home together.

"Hi," he says, kissing me softly when I get to him. I hold him to me a few seconds longer than is appropriate in public before pulling away. I always have this urge to tell him that I've missed after we've spent the day apart. I feel silly saying it though, so I just try to show it, by kissing him and holding his hand and standing close to him.

"Hi," I reply. "How was your day?"

He shrugs and gives me a tight smile. "It was okay."

I frown; something is up, he's not acting like himself. He hadn't returned any of my emails all day, but I figured that was just because he was busy. "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

My phone buzzes in my pocket—I pull it out to see it's my mom calling. She's been calling a lot lately and I know I should answer, in case it's something important. But I want to figure out what's going on with Edward more, so I ignore the call.

"Edward…" I probe.

He smiles at me quickly, taking my hand and walking down the stairs into the station. "Come on, we have to get home and get changed so we can make it to the dinner on time." There's something off in the way he smiles; usually, Edward smiles with his whole entirety. He's such a genuinely happy person that it just radiates out from him, but this smile is too small, too tight-lipped to be true.

There's a doo-wop group in the subway, snappily singing "Build Me Up Buttercup." I hum along and clap with the small crowd that's formed around them because they're actually pretty good. I link my arm through Edward, forcing him to sway from side. He's still not okay though, but he doesn't seem to want to talk about it yet, so I leave it alone. Instead, I say, "You know, even though I can see a rat from here, and there's two homeless men behind us, it'd be pretty romantic if you proposed to me with a doo-wop group in the background."

It finally gets a genuine laugh out of him and he grins at me. I grin back, just happy that he's happy again. "You really have a one-track mind, don't you?"

I don't answer, just kissing him on the cheek. But as soon as the train comes, he's back to his glum self, and when we get to the apartment, he quietly changes into the suit he's wearing for dinner. He barely says ten words to me as I rush around in the usual tornado that precedes me having to look somewhat respectable for anything. When I'm finally finished dressing, he's just in the living room staring off into space.

I'm not quite sure what to do, so I resort to the basic. I stand in front of where Edward is sitting on the couch, his head in his hands and peel off the top of my dress, letting it hang down. He doesn't even look up so I unclasp my bra and drape it around his neck like a scarf.

That gets his attention and when he looks up, his eyes nearly bug out of their sockets. "What are you doing?" he asks me. Well, he doesn't ask me so much as he asks my boobs.

"Want a quickie?" I ask, thinking it'll cheer him up.

Instead, he just covers his face with his hands and leans back on the couch. "No," he groans. "I can't. And we don't have time."

"Well, I wasn't kidding about it being a 'quickie'. I'm talking like forty-year-old virgin quick," I say, growing a little more desperate. Edward turning down sex is rare, but he's done it on occasion. What's really scaring me is that my boobs are hanging out, bare, in front of his face _and he isn't looking_. Something is seriously wrong.

"Are you dying?" I blurt. I hear him scoff but he doesn't answer. "You are. You're dying. That's the only reason you're not only turning down sex but turning down time to look at my boobs."

He finally removes his hands from his hand, and juts his neck out, making it apparent that he's ogling my chest. "There. Happy?"

I fold my arms over my boobs, but he doesn't look as upset as he should by this. "Not really. What's wrong?"

"I… I…" He gives up trying to finish his sentence.

"Are you pregnant?" He cracks a smile. "Edward, are you trying to tell me you're a lesbian?" It gets a chuckle. "If you don't answer, I'm just going to have to go back to assuming you're dying?"

He finally looks me in the eye. "I'm not dying. But you're going to want to kill me."

"Why?"

"Have you talked to your mom lately?"

I frown, thoroughly confused by the change in topic. "What?"

"Have you?"

"Well, she's called a bunch of times but I missed the calls. What does that have to do with anything?"

But he's just shaking his head, talking to himself. "I should have just told you. I should have told you the minute I found out, but instead I told him I wouldn't and then we talked about getting engaged..."

I'm very confused, but at least, he's talking, even if it's not making any sense. I grab my bra from around his neck, putting it back on before I push him back and sit in his lap. I stroke his cheek gently, and he leans into my touch. I have to make him know that he can tell me anything, bad or good. "Edward, you've already admitted that you like Yanni. It can't get worse than that." But apparently it can because he sighs and says nothing as he runs his hands up my legs and then gently pushes me off his lap. "Look, whatever it is… you can tell me. I'm sorry if I made you feel like there's something you can't say to me, I _never_ want you to feel—"

"Jesus, Bella, don't apologize. This is my fuck up, through and through."

Now he's starting to scare me. Because Edward isn't like this: he's not this moping, self-hating, impenetrable person. He said the other day that it wasn't another girl and I believe him. But apparently, somehow, it's worse. "Edward, you're really scaring me. Please just tell me what it is."

Just as he opens his mouth to speak, the apartment buzzer rings. Edward quickly gets up and answers it, telling the doorman to let Emmett through.

"Emmett?" I say confusedly, as I pull my dress back on properly. "Why is Emmett here? The rehearsal dinner starts in forty-five minutes."

Edward doesn't answer and a few moments later, Emmett bursts through the door with a breathless, "Have you told her yet?"

Edward glumly shakes his head.

I've had enough. "Alright. What the hell is going on? You two running off to be lovers or something? I mean, you said there's no other girl. Maybe it's another guy."

"Bella, you're going to want to sit down," Emmett says. "You look nice, by the way."

"Why do I need to sit down? And thanks, by the way. Right back at you."

"Sit down and we'll tell you," he says. Edward is still silent, and now I'm seething.

"Tell me and maybe I'll sit down."

"Just sit first."

"No!" I yell and instead, I stand on the coffee table in protest. Crossing my arms, I take my first—and maybe only —opportunity to be taller and look down at both Emmett and Edward. "Tell me. Tell me right now what the hell is going on that is so bad it's making my boyfriend turn down boobs and sex."

Emmett frowns and turns to Edward. "Seriously, man? It's not that bad."

"Maybe," Edward shoots back. "But it's really bad that I kept it from her. I knew I should have told her."

Emmett nods. "You're right. I'm sorry I didn't let you. But to be fair, they didn't want you to either."

"They who?" I screech. "What is going on?"

"Bella—" Edward starts, but Emmett holds up his hand.

"I should tell you. It's more about you and me anyway." Me and Emmett? What could possibly concern me and Emmett that I don't know about? "Edward just happened to be a casualty of being in the same room as when I found out," Emmett explains.

"When you found out _what?"_ I ask.

Emmett takes a deep breath and says, "That your mom is dating my dad."

* * *

After TBIEH and TBTIED, the third part of this story will be called The Worst Thing Ever and will be told from Renee and Mr. McCarty's alternate POV. I'm just kidding. (you hope.)


	4. Chapter 4

You should know by now that I adore you. Thanks for reading and reviewing and tweeting and commenting and being your lovely selves.

Thanks always to everyone on the FGB team, Jaime Arkin, Famouslyso, Kathica and KateC.

* * *

**The Best Thing I Ever Did  
**Chapter Four.

Emmett was right. I should have sat down for this. I feel like a tall tree that's just been sawed, swaying slightly before the almighty fall.

"See? I told you you should have sat down," Emmett says.

I glare at him and use his shoulder to climb off the table. He attempts to lead me to the couch, but instead I just move away from him and lie down on the living room floor.

"What the hell are you doing, Bella?" Emmett asks, peering down at me.

"She's doing the exact opposite of what you said. Out of protest," Edward explains drawlingly. He knows me well. "You said sit down on the couch, so she stood up on the coffee table. Then you said sit down again, so now she's lying down on the floor. It means she's angry."

I look at Emmett and point at Edward. "What he said."

"Alright."

"So explain to me what you mean when you say that my mom is dating your dad."

Emmett shrugs. "Your mom is dating my dad. That's pretty much it."

"No, no, no. That's _not_ pretty much it. Tell me everything. Start at the very beginning."

"A very good place to start."

"No quipping!" I hold up a finger and wag it at him. "I am lying on the floor of my apartment, hearing about my mother's love life forty-five minutes before your wedding rehearsal dinner. There is a time for quipping, and this is not that time, Emmett."

And so Emmett begins to explain. That my mother is not just dating his father, but that they're serious enough that he invited her to attend his son's wedding with him. And that they put two and two together and realized that their children knew each other and Mr. McCarty called up Emmett a week or so ago and asked him not to say anything until my mother had a chance to speak with me. Because she wanted to make sure I was okay with this. My mother whose calls I've been avoiding lately, out of pure laziness. And now it's too late for my mom to come, so I'm both completely caught by surprise _and_ a terrible daughter.

I'm not sure what to say, so I just sit there. Or rather, lie there, because I'm still on the floor in protest. Protest of what, I'm not sure. Maybe everything. My life and choices and general existence.

"Bella…" Edward says. "I know this isn't great timing but we're going to be really late if we don't leave right now."

I nod and both Emmett and Edward each offer a hand to me. I take them both and get up. When we get downstairs, I pull Edward aside as Emmett goes to hail a cab.

"You should have told me sooner," I tell him. "Or at least gotten Emmett to tell me."

"I know."

"So we're in a fight."

He nods, looking appropriately contrite. "Okay."

"I'm _really_ mad at you."

"As you should be. I'm sorry, you know."

"I know. But I'm still mad."

"I know."

And then I sigh because I'm getting this feeling, like an itch at the back of my neck and I don't really know what to do.

"Edward?" I ask, almost meekly.

"Yeah?"

"How do I be mad at you?"

He looks at me like I'm strange. No, he doesn't look at me _like_ I'm strange. He looks at me _because_ I'm strange. "What?"

Aside from overreaction, I'm not a person particularly prone to extreme emotion, or if you believe my friends, _any_ emotion, my chronic neuroses aside. I've never really been raging mad at someone and I think if I were, the person I would talk to about it would be Edward. So this poses a bit of a problem. I wind my hair around my forefinger, an old nervous habit I picked up again. "I… in eight years, I've never _actually_ been angry at you. I don't… I mean, I'm absolutely furious that you kept this from me for so long but I don't actually know what to do about it."

"You could forgive me?" he tries.

I shake my head. "Not an option." His face falls and he looks so upset—with himself, not with me—that I have to add, "Yet."

He nods. "Um… maybe you bitch about me and what I did? Like really vent and let loose?"

That seems feasible. "Yeah. Yeah… that sounds like a good idea."

"And you can sort of use that as a jumping-off point to talk about _all_ the things about me that irritate you."

That might be a little more difficult. I genuinely enjoy almost everything about him. I mean, there are minor annoyances, sure, like how he has the most piercing whistle ever and tends to whistle whenever he's doing chores or shaving or showering. Or that he hogs blankets a bit and snuffles—not snores, but snuffles—in his sleep. Or that he's just _always_ the sensible one, and I'm the emotional equivalent of the Great Wall (up and down and thoroughly exhausting). And how he—well, I guess it's not _that_ difficult. "Okay, that seems doable."

The tips of his mouth quirk up as he tries to suppress a smile—in any other circumstance, I know exactly what'd he say right now: "So are you."

But he manages to control himself, clearing his throat and saying, "And… maybe you don't talk to me for awhile."

I nod but this, I know, is nearly impossible. Not only are we supposed to show up to the rehearsal dinner, in which we are both in the wedding party, but I think I've literally spoken to Edward every single day for the last eight years. I don't really want to change that. But he's also never done anything like this so… "Okay. I won't talk to you. I mean… starting now. After now. After this. Okay, bye." I say, but I don't actually have any place to go as a cab stops in front of us. We pile in and I make Emmett sit in the middle.

"What the hell?" he whines. "Why am I monkey-in-the-middle?"

"Because I'm mad at Edward and not speaking to him right now," I reply.

"Okay. Does that mean you've forgiven _me_?"

That brings up a good point. "No. Not even a little bit. I'm just not very good at being mad at people so I'm practicing with Edward before I get to you."

"How do you not know how to be mad at people?"

"I don't know how I don't know!"

"You know," Emmett muses. "For all your emotional insanity—"

"Wasn't that a Jamiroquai song?" Edward interrupts.

"Jeez, Jamiroquai. File that under things I haven't thought of in fifteen years," I say.

"Other things in that file," he replies. "Chia pets."

"Justin and Britney's matching denim tuxedo and gown."

Edward shudders. "Cross-filed under travesties to humanity."

"And cross-filed under great couples Halloween costume."

"Don't even think about it," Edward warns.

"Don't worry, Alice already called it."

Edward exhales audibly. "Thank god… and poor Jasper."

"Well, if he'd just cut his hair, he wouldn't look like—"

Emmett clears his throat. "Aren't you supposed to be mad at him?"

"Oh!" I sit back and cross my arms. "Yeah. I forgot."

"Sorry," Edward mutters.

"Shut up, I'm supposed to be not talking to you," I snap, irritated that I'm even bad at _this_ part of a relationship.

"If you're not supposed to be talking to him, why does _he_ have to shut up?" Emmett asks.

"Because…" I falter. "You shut up, too."

"This is a silent cab ride then," he comments.

"Shut up, Emmett."

"Okay, but can I at least say 'I do' at my wedding on Saturday?"

"Maybe. I'll think about it."

"I appreciate that."

I remember that I'm supposed to be mad at him too. "It looks unlikely."

"You sound like a Magic Eight ball I used to have."

"If you don't stop talking, that won't be the only ball you used to have."

Emmett shuts up.

—|—

As we enter the restaurant, Edward gently grabs my elbow and pulls me back.

"What can I do to make this okay?" he asks. "Boom box over my head? Meet you at the top of the Empire State Building? Write 'I'm sorry' in skywriting?"

I smile but it's brief. My head is still swimming with so many things and then I get angry again. At least if Edward and Emmett had told me, I could just be dealing with the idea that my mother is probably going to marry Mr. McCarty. But on top of this, I'm so mad at he kept it from me that what's going on with my mom is almost like a secondary thing. "Just give me a little time. I need to get okay with this… all of this."

"Okay."

The rehearsal dinner goes off smoothly. Hell, it could have ended in a food fight and I might not have noticed, I'm so lost in my own thoughts. I'm suddenly putting all these pieces together about my mother—if I'm correct, she mentioned meeting Mr. McCarty over a year ago and she's still dating him. Furthermore, she hasn't married or left him yet. That means she's serious about it.

And I didn't even bother to listen to her. I realize now why Edward was so hesitant to tell me this. My mother is just such a touchy subject with me because I've never been comfortable with our relationship. She just always been this gaping issue that I've never bothered to resolve; I thought by being with Edward, it would all just magically be fixed. But I guess that shows how much I know about relationships; one good one doesn't mend the others.

But maybe I should try. She may be—or may have been, as it seems—flighty and terrible with commitment but in the end, I've ended up with Edward so there's no permanent damage. I'm just being a bad daughter.

I decide to change that, right now.

"Jasper, do you have your iPad with you?" Of course he does. I swear, Jasper touches his iPad more than he touches Alice. He hands it to me and I pull Emmett to the side. "Your dad is flying in tomorrow?"

"Yeah, he couldn't get today off to come to dinner. What's up?"

"I'm…" I take a deep breath. "I'm going to see if I can find a flight for my mom too. Right after I call her."

Emmett smiles at me. "Thanks, Bella. I think that would mean a lot to him. It means a lot to me."

I punch him lightly in the arm. "You only get married once—I hope. Everyone should be happy."

"And I'm sorry for not telling you earlier. Are we okay?"

I smile. He looks genuinely worried. "Emmett, it's your _wedding_. This stuff… it's all background noise. I'm not mad at you yet. I have to practice first, remember?"

He smiles but it's strained. "You're not mad at me. But you are at Edward."

"It's… a different equation between me and him, y'know?"

"I know, but it's just that I put him in this situation."

"And he chose to _stay_ in the situation, Emmett." I shrug. "But stop worrying about it. It's your wedding. Now get out of here so I can have one of the top three most awkward conversations of my life."

He gives me a dimpled grin. "More awkward than the time you found handcuffs in Rose's dresser?"

I shudder. I think I'd genuinely repressed that memory. "More awkward, but less disturbing. That's still pretty much number one."

"Yes!" He does a fist pump as he walks away. "Still the king!"

I dial the phone with shaking hands and my mom picks up on the second ring, with an enthusiastic "Bella!" This makes me feel incredibly guilty because she's clearly been waiting for me to call back. But then I remember my decision and I channel my guilt into being a better daughter. By the end of the call with my mom, I've booked her a ticket. She's going to fly in tomorrow and then stay a few extra days, so we can spend some time together. She and my father are on okay terms, so I don't have to worry about them clashing at the wedding and I know he'd be happy I was spending time with her.

I feel… I'm not sure how I feel. With my mother, I'm on such shaky ground, I don't know if I'll be okay, at least until I talk to her. Still, I'm happy she can make it and my guilt is abating a bit. I guess I'm beginning to feel better about almost everything… except Edward. I'm not outright angry, though. I'm still trying to figure out _what_ I am at him.

I slide into the seat next to him; he's been quiet all evening, a little down. I hate seeing him like this, especially because I know it's because of me. But at the same time, I feel like if we don't work through this, then we'll just be leaving it to fester into something bigger. Either way, this is not the place to do it; we're surrounded by relative and friends.

I reach over and smooth out the wrinkle between his eyebrow with my forefinger.

He turns to me and smiles. "Hi."

"Hi," I say back. And all of a sudden, I feel a welling of dislike; at me, for being the way I am that these issues come up, and at him, for keeping things from me and making it a bigger issue than it already was. This is Rose and Emmett's wedding, dammit. It's supposed to be a great time for all of us. "Can we… I hate this. I really do. Can we just take a break?"

His face falls immediately, and his mouth becomes a small, straight line. "Look, Bella, I'm _so_ sorry. I really am, and I'll do whatever it takes to make this up to you but… no."

I frown, confused as to why he's refusing. "What?"

His eyes are wide and sad, a pinched expression on his handsome features. "No, we can't take a break; I can't deal with that, I _won't_ deal with that. I mean, yesterday you're bugging me about proposing and today, you want to take a break? Baby, _no._ You're it, you're absolutely it for me and we are too good together to let something—"

Man, I'm slow. All of a sudden, I realize what Edward thought I meant. "No, Edward," I interrupt. I let out a small laugh. "I meant a break from me being angry or not talking to you or whatever those things people do in a fight."

His expression changes so starkly, he looks like a different person than the one who was just talking. He starts laughing and jokingly bangs his head on the edge of the table a couple of times, but even then, he's back to himself, smiling and sweet. "Oh, God. I thought you wanted to break up—I can't even—just never mind what I thought. Thank god I was wrong."

"I'm still mad. We still have to talk about this and work through it," I say, and he nods. "But it's Rose and Emmett's wedding. And I mean, we're going to get through this, obviously. I'd rather not be in a fight with you for their wedding. I can just be in a fight with you _after_ it."

He grins. "Fair enough." He looks away for a second, taking a deep breath before returning his gaze back to me and smiling. The relief there is too acute to ignore, I _have_ to say something to him. I can't leave him thinking that me asking for a break was an actual possibility. Every word he says, every thing he does tells me that we're in this together for good. I should give him the same courtesy.

"Hey," I tell him, filling my tone with mock anger. "Don't give me more reasons to be mad at you." He gets that adorable, confused look on his face and I just want to kiss it off. "You actually thought I wanted to break up?"

He smiles but can't meet my eyes, staring at his lap. Maybe he's embarrassed at his passionate, vehement opposition to it, but it's exactly what makes me love him. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"Fine. But there's another issue at hand, too." Now he turns to look at me and I level a mock stern stare at him. "You called me 'baby'."

"I know."

"What did we agree upon about the term 'baby'?"

"That I really can't pull it off."

"And?"

"It makes me sound like white trash."

"And yet…"

He shrugs. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Oh, Edward," I say, sliding an arm around his shoulder. "We will never be _that_ desperate."

Right then, Rose marches up to us and punches Edward in the arm. Hard.

"Ow!" he yells, rubbing the spot where she punched him. "What the hell, Rose?"

"You are lucky that's all you're getting. I've got guests and family and a wedding to think about so you're getting by with a drive-by admonishment. I've already arranged for me to yell at Emmett about this after our honeymoon." I smile at how similar they are to us. "How could you be so stupid to keep something like that from her?"

"Rose—" I start but she holds up her hand.

"I'm done. I don't have time for this kind of idiocy." Jesus, Rose is scary. She turns back to Edward. "But if you _ever_ do something dumb like this again—"

"I know," he says quietly, none of the fire in him that's usually there when he and Rose fight. He nods once, quickly and seriously. "I know."

She nods back, and I swear, some sort of sibling telepathy passes through their gaze. It's creepy and it makes me glad that I don't have a brother or sister. "Alright." She turns around to face me again. "This has to be quick. Bella, he's stupid but he loves you and you can't ruin my wedding by breaking up right before it."

I throw my hands up in frustration. "Why does everything think we're going to break up? We're _not_." I almost want to mention that we spent the whole week talking about proposing. Edward and I aren't just not breaking over this; we're pretty much not breaking up _ever_.

Rose frowns. "Emmett told me. Well, he told me about all this right now; I knew that Jack had a plus-one, I just didn't know it was _your mother_. You can bet _I _would have told you if I'd known, Bella—"

"Thanks, Rose," Edward mutters.

She ignores him and continues, "And the only thing that kept me from yelling at him right there is that he said that you two were in a serious fight over this."

I nod. Edward grimaces and then he nods, too. "We are. But we're not breaking up, Rose. Not even close to it."

"Well, now that _that's_ sorted," Rose says. "I have to go deal with Mom freaking out over the song choice for our first dance."

I frown. "I thought you chose 'You Belong to Me'? What's wrong with that? The Patsy Cline version is beautiful."

"No, no, not You Belong _to_ Me," she corrects. "You Belong _With _Me."

Edward frowns. "I don't think I've heard that song."

"Me neither," I say and then it dawns on me. My eyes widen in horror. "Not… the Taylor Swift song?"

"Stop that," she says, wagging her finger at me. "Stop having Esme-judging-face. I happen to _love_ that song."

"That song happens to be about _teenagers_. I mean, the word 'cheerleader' is in the lyrics, for god's sakes."

"No," she argues. "Not having this conversation. My wedding. My dance. My song choice." She walks away and I turn to Edward.

"If you ever suggest a Taylor Swift song for our wedding, I will…" I wrack my brain for a appropriate punishment. "I will barbecue you. No, worse, I'll shish kebab you."

"You'd be the sweetest skewer to die on," he says, simpering. I roll my eyes at his attempt to butter me up.

"Funny, usually, _you're_ the one skewering me." His eyebrows go up. He normally has the innuendo department cornered. I shrug. "Looks like you're rubbing off on me." He opens his mouth but I beat him to it. "Or just rubbing on me."

He bows his head to me, feigning reverent pride. "The student has become the teacher."

"More like the tortured has become the torturer." He chuckles. From behind him, I see Carlisle and Esme and decide to stop being in my own world. "You know, I haven't really talked to your parents. I'm going to go say hi."

"Alright." He smiles and says, "Fight you later."

—|—

_The next day, after a lazy start to the morning, I make breakfast and put it on the dining table as you take a shower._

"_Bacon!" you yell happily when you come out in just your towel and walk into the kitchen. "Bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bac—"_

_I roll my eyes. "What no morning kiss for me? I worked hard to make breakfast. Which includes a lot of bacon."_

"_The only way—" you say, words garbled because your mouth is full of—what else?—bacon. "I'm kisshing you right now ish if you have bacon in your mouth."_

_I stick the end of a strip of bacon in my mouth, wiggling it with my tongue as I waggle my eyebrows. You grin as you walk over to me and sit on my lap, and start chewing the other end, biting until your lips are on mine._

"_This is like Lady and the Tramp, but way better," you tell me, mouth still on mine. I laugh and kiss you some more, gross grease and all._

_When I pull away, you sigh dreamily and say, "I love you."_

_I smile. "I love you."_

"_I was talking to the bacon," you say as you stand up and fill your plate with the rest of breakfast._

"_Yeah? Well, I was talking to your breasts," I reply and you laugh. "You're being awfully mean to me, considering that I just proposed. I mean, this morning, that Edward Swan thing? Not funny."_

"_A little funny."_

"_No."_

"_Funny if it's not happening to you."_

"_But I did happen to me," I insist._

"_Pssh," you say, putting the full plate in front of me. I wonder for a moment if you haven't gone crazy; there's a lot of things you would do, but you wouldn't prioritize someone else's food over your own, not even for me. But then you move my arm and sit right on my lap and start eating and I think: there's the girl I know and love. _

"_Don't 'pssh' me," I reply._

"_Pssh," you say again, but this time your mouth is full so you spray a little bit of food._

"_Ew, Bella," I chastise, wiping the crumbs off me._

"_Okay, that I will apologize for."_

"_But not the taking-your-last-name crap you pulled this morning?" I ask, shaking my head. I still can't believe I fell for that. I consider myself pretty sharp, but you make me soft in the best way. _

_God damn it, I can't believe I just called myself soft._

"_You make me crazy, you know that?" I tell you._

_You smile and kiss me quickly before hopping off my lap. "I know."_

_I get up and follow you into the bedroom. Just as you're about to drop the towel, you notice me standing in the doorway. You raise your eyebrows. "I'm about to change."_

_I grin. "I know."_

_You roll your eyes and turn back around, dropping your towel and making me crazy in a whole different sort of way. _

* * *

a few things: the jamiroquai song is actually called Virtual Insanity. You _will_ see the proposal. Chia pets freak me out. I don't have a posting schedule but it won't be too long between updates. I hope I made you think of things you haven't thought of in 15 years.

MWAH. come tell me things.


	5. Chapter 5

If you're here and reading, chances are, I like you very much.

Jaime, Lauren, Kate, Kate and the FGB team, thank you thank you thank you.

* * *

**The Best Thing I Ever Did  
**Chapter Five.

If I had a time machine, there is one thing I would go back in time and change. I wouldn't prevent a war, though that'd be awfully nice of me. I wouldn't even go back in time to stop myself from getting that horrible perm and dye job at the end of senior year—and therefore had in all my graduation pictures—which made me look like an electrocuted rooster. I wouldn't even prevent the fight that Edward and I are having. No, I'd go back in time to when Alice suggested that the six of us pile into Emmett's SUV and drive over to the small town outside of the city where Rose and Em are getting married together the day before the wedding. And say, "No freaking way am I doing that."

Because now I'm stuck in a car with five other people. One of whom is driving and the other four who have very strong opinions about some book that neither Edward nor I have read.

"I really thought that Jamien was right," Rose says.

"I guess I can see that. I also see the other side too," Jasper replies. "Dachel was just trying to help."

"Wait, wait, wait," Emmett interrupts, waking from his nap suddenly. "Are you talking about _The Tides of March_?"

"Yeah! Have you read it?" Jasper asks. I look over at Edward, who is driving, and he tears his eyes away from the road long enough to shoot me a look that says he understands as much of their conversation as I do. Which is nothing.

"Yeah, I have," Emmett replies. "And no way. Jamien is a total asshole! He was just using everyone's sympathy because he was half-lemur and he totally got between Christophel and Fallulah."

"What?" Rose roars. "Jamien belongs with Fallulah. He nearly died for her."

"He nearly died because he was stupid. Fallulah needs someone brave like Christophel."

"Did you even read the book, McCarty?"

"I can't believe I'm engaged to someone who likes Jamien," Emmett says. "You have terrible taste."

"Well, I _am_ marrying you," she retorts and they glare at each other for a minute before bursting into matching grins. It's so happy and sweet, so naturally, it makes me want to vomit even more than my waning carsickness.

I thought that'd be as intense as it would get; but the argument continues and when Alice accidentally gives away the ending of the seventeenth book—which Rose hasn't read yet—it erupts so much that I step in.

Twisting from the front seat to face the four of them in the back, I have to practically shout to get their attention. "How about we talk about something else?"

"Yeah," Edward says, from the driver's seat. "It's getting a little intense. I agree with Bella."

"Oh, big shock there. Edward agrees with Bella," Rose says. The same girl who a week ago was convincing me to marry her brother is now giving us shit for it. Her convenient hypocrisy is actually one of my favorite things about her. "I feel like I should feel betrayed. I mean, my brother and breast friend—" She stops short and everyone looks at her as her eyes go round as she realizes what she accidentally said. "I meant to say _best_—"

"Your breast friend? Really? Really?" I tease. "Well, I mean if you want to see them, you just have to ask, Rose." I pull down the side of my shirt and flash her my bra as Alice cracks up. Jasper just looks like he's in shock. "Always knew I got you when I offered to go lesbian."

"Bella's boob!" Emmett yells joyfully. "I just saw Bella's boob!"

"Hey!" Edward says, clearly frustrated with being stuck as the driver and unable to participate. "That's my boob! Stop looking at _my_ boob!"

Apparently, the Cullen siblings are in a contest to see who can say the dumbest things and we all crack up. Suddenly, I'm not sure I'd trade this for anything. I love these idiots even if I also hate these idiots for making me love them so much.

—|—

When we finally get to the hotel where the wedding is nearly two hours later, we all spill out of the car. Everyone rushes inside to settle into our rooms before the rest of the guests arrive. Some, including my mother and Mr. McCarty, already have.

The minute we're in our room, Edward pulls me into his arms. He kisses me softly, telling—no, explaining something to me with the gentle way his mouth moves against mine. His lips barely touch mine and he tucks his hand under my chin, stroking my jaw with his thumb. When he pulls away, sucking on my bottom lip just a bit, I think I might just fall down into a heap on the floor.

"Bella—"

"Let me guess: You're sorry and it's not going to happen again," I say and he grins. He's only said it about ten times since yesterday, whispering it my ear before we fell asleep, before we got in the car, when we stopped for coffee.

He shrugs. "Going to keep saying it till you're okay."

I lean forward and tilt his chin up, and kissing the small scar he has on it from when he was whacked in the face by a baseball bat. "I think this is good for us. We need to learn how to fight."

He chuckles. "Yeah. We're not so good at it."

"Terrible. And you know what fighting means."

"What?"

I'm just about to reply when there's a knock on the door. Edward reaches over, keeping one arm around my waist and opens the door. It's my mom.

"Hi Edward," she says. He moves away from me to give her a hug and greet her back. "Hi Bella."

"Hi, Mom," I say and we hug. An awkward silence fills the room and the three of us just stand there until Edward clears his throat.

"You know what? I promised Rose I'd help her finish putting the rest of the thank you gifts together before all the other guests arrive."

"Oh, I saw mine! They're lovely, Edward. Nice job," Mom says.

"Thanks, Renee. I'm a fan of your work too." He winks at me, grinning as he walks out.

My mother laughs. "Is he really as perfect as he seems?"

I roll my eyes, annoyed that I'm not at all annoyed by his charm. "Even more so."

"So…"

"So…" I clear my throat and bite the bullet. "I'm sorry about this whole thing, Mom. I should have returned your phone calls. I'm glad you were able to make it."

She shrugs. "Bella, I'm not an idiot. I know you and I aren't… close. I know that there are things between us that might never change. Doesn't mean I'm not sorry they are there."

I sit down on the bed. It feels so weird that I almost want to squirm, but I realize we have to start somewhere. "So… you and Mr. McCarty, huh?"

She smiles. "Yeah. I think it's real this time, Bella. It feels real."

I try not to be cynical but I can't help from thinking that she's said this every time. "Really?" I ask.

She nods and then like a teenager, launches into how great Jack McCarty is, how sweet and funny and cute, and I realize something. My mother actually does believe that it's real; she has every time she's gotten married. And suddenly, I feel sad for her. Because it can't be easy when it ends and because with Edward, I've found that thing that she's spent her entire life running around searching for.

It's not like my issues with my mother are magically resolved in that moment, but suddenly, I understand her a little more. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest. I let her go on for a while before she realizes she's rambling and stops, blushing deeply. It's kind of sweet. She's going to be in the city for a few days after the wedding, so we make plans to spend some time together after the wedding and I feel geuinely good about it. All my life, I just never understood her. Now that I feel like I do a little more, I can think about what is bugging me about Edward keeping this from me.

I head into the lobby and find Edward greeting various guests as they arrive. Despite a raging energy through me, because I feel like I can finally articulate what's been bothering me about this whole thing, I calmly tap him on the shoulder as he chats with his uncle Marcus. "Can I talk to you for a second?" I ask.

He frowns at me and nods, excusing himself to Marcus and following me. "What's up, Bella?"

When we're in the empty hallway, I turn to him and put my hands on his chest. "We just had a fight."

He looks from side to side as if searching for whatever the point that I'm making. "Okay?"

"We just _had_ a fight."

His eyes light up in understanding. "_Had_?"

I want to tell him that I've figured it out. That the reason I didn't know how to be mad at him was because I was not really mad at him. I mean, of course I was irritated that he kept it from me, but that's more because making a decision like that meant that he was judging my ability to handle that information instead of just letting me do it myself. And that's so unlike Edward; he's not that guy who's ever made a decision for me. Not even when we first started this thing and he was convincing me to be with him—he wasn't really convincing me. I made that decision easily. He just laid it out for me. He helped me understand. So I'm not so much angry at Edward for what he did as I am for doing something that was so unlike him.

So I tell him, plain and simple: "I'm not mad _at_ you, Edward. I'm mad because that wasn't you."

Okay, so maybe that wasn't so plain and simple.

He blinks a few times. "Um… what?" he asks, cautiously, as if he's scared that saying the wrong thing will send me away again.

I slide my arms up his shoulders and around his neck to show him I'm not going anywhere, and neither is he. "You don't keep things from me. You've always told me everything just like it was, because you thought I could handle it. And because you thought that I could handle it, I did too. So when you don't… it makes me wonder if I can."

He nods. "I'm sorry. I just—I thought about how to tell you, but I had made that stupid promise to Emmett. I thought you might talk to your mom first. ; and we were joking around and I just wanted to keep things light. I was going to tell you. Really. But I know how you are about your mom and then you mentioned marriage and proposing and I was just… I was so happy, honestly. So happy that you wanted to move forward and I didn't want this to get in the way of that."

I smile. Because of course, even when he messes up, it's because he loves me so much. "It's okay. We've figured it out and it's not going to happen again. Let's focus on the positive."

"Which is?"

"Well, now that we've had a real fight… we also get to have—"

"Make up sex," he blurts. His eyes grow wide and excited.

"Yes. Exactly. We have never had make up sex."

"A travesty, " he declares as he grabs and pulls me to his body, hoisting me up and I burst into laughter. He ducks quickly into the hallway and heads down to our room at the end of it. "You know," he says, breathless as he carries me awkwardly. "There is another upside to this whole thing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He stops outside our room and puts me down. Even though he's talking to me, he's staring at the ground and one of his hands is insistently rubbing the back of his neck. He's nervous. "I didn't want to propose with this thing still hanging between us. But now that you know and it's all out in the open and we're okay, I can propose." He peeks up at me. "I mean… if you still want me to."

I smile. "Well, I want a lot of things."

"Like free cheese at all restaurants on Sundays."

I place a palm over my heart, feigning feeling incredibly touched. "You remember that?"

He snorts. "Well, you only talked about it for like, six months. I helped you name it, remember? Freemage! As in—"

"Free fromage," I finish. My hand is still over my heart, but I'm not feigning emotion anymore. More than free cheese, more the wedding cake that I helped Rose pick and have been waiting to eat again ever since, more than anything, I just want to be with him, always. "Of course, I still want you to propose. Edward—"

I'm about to get very sentimental on him and apparently, he sees it coming.

"No!" he practically yells. He gets the key card out from his pocket and opens the door to our room. "No talking, no feelings. Make up sex! _Please_!"

Well, since he said please.

—|—

We stay in bed after, just laughing and joking until we know we can't anymore. Our phones are buzzing like crazy—we're clearly needed.

"So much for more make up sex," Edward mutters, rolling out of bed.

"I think we have to fight again in order to have more make up sex, " I tell him, pulling on my bra. "So could you hurry up and propose to me and so we can get married and spend the rest of our lives fighting with each other? And then making up?"

His head pops out of the undershirt he's just pulled out and he's wearing a huge grin. "Sounds like a plan."

"But I'm a little busy this weekend. I have a friend's wedding. If you can give me a tentative date for this proposal, I can pencil you in," I say and he laughs, full and real and thoroughly Edward.

"I'll have my people call your people."

I place one knee on the bed and lean across to kiss him. "You _are_ my people. And hey, another upside: at least now we know you're prone to as big of a neurotic freak out as I am."

He chuckles. "Great, now _you're_ rubbing off on me. Now we'll both be crazy."

"Well, at least we'll never be boring."

—|—

The rest of the weekend flies by; by the time I know it, we're at the reception already. Rosalie and Emmett have their first dance—to, yes, a Taylor Swift song, with Esme cringing in the corner—and I sit sideways in my chair so I can watch as other guests join them to dance. This also helps get the piece of cake on my plate out of my vision, since I've been eyeing it like a lion stalks it prey from the moment I sat down. Leaning forward, Edward puts his arms around me and I settle back into him.

"Does this mean our wedding song can be the Thong Song?" I ask.

"So no Taylor Swift, but Sisqo is okay?" he asks.

I shrug. "A girl has got to have her standards."

He laughs and then quietly says, "I love you," into my ear.

I lace our fingers together. "I think this is the happiest I've ever been."

I can feel him smile, the way his cheeks move against mine. "Yeah? Would you say this is a perfect moment? A _perfect_ moment for _something_ to happen, perhaps?"

His over-enunciation catches my attention. I turn around in his arms, my eyes wide. "You mean… oh my god. Are you—now?" He grins and his eyes slide towards the plate in front of me.

"Where's the ring? Is it in my cake?" I ask. "Because I mean, if it means I have to eat my whole slice of cake right now, I'll do it."

He shrugs, smirking slightly. "Maybe."

I dive into the cake, which is red velvet with an amazing buttercream frosting. It's probably gross and totally unattractive how quickly I'm eating this thing but I reason that once I get through it, I'll just wear the ring and then Edward can't change his mind about wanting to marry the girl who is shoving baseball-sized bites of wedding cake into her mouth. Within seconds, the cake is gone, but there is no ring either in it (I know this because I chewed very thoroughly, terrified of a scenario where I swallow my own engagement ring) or left on the plate.

I turn to Edward. "Where's the ring?"

He laughs. "I didn't put a ring in a piece of cake!"

"You're not? But I just asked you and you said—"

"Well, I knew how much you wanted to eat the cake so I was just giving you an excuse to."

I pretend to tear up. "You really do love me."

"As much as Steve Carrell loves lamp." He stands and takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor.

I frown as I slide my arms around his neck and we slowly begin to sway. "Surely you can come up with something better than that."

He grabs my hand from behind his neck and holds it high to spin me once. "As much as I loved the lock on my bedroom door in high school."

When I turn back to face him, I stick my tongue out in disgust. "Ew."

"Alright, let me try again," he says. His hand is flat against the small of my back, tracing delicious little strokes with his thumb. "You know that feeling where you've been looking forward to something for so long that it can't _possibly_ live up to your expectations and then, somehow, it does? Not only that, but it actually exceeds them? It totally just reaffirms you in every way."

I smile. "You love me as much as you love that feeling?"

"You _are_ that feeling."

—|—

"_What do you want to do all day?" I ask you. We've just both called in sick to work, figuring if we can't do it the day after we get engaged—the day just happens to be our one-year anniversary—then when can we?_

_You flop back onto the bed, fully clothed unfortunately, and shrug. "I don't know. Be engaged."_

_I flop down next to you and grab your hand, holding it above my face. You're wearing my ring and god, it looks good on you. I kiss your finger, and then bite it lightly, making you jolt. _

_"Thinking about how much this sucker cost you?" you ask, clearly joking since I know you know it was my family's. _

_"Thinking about what it earned me, actually," I reply._

_You smile back at me. "That's a pretty smooth line."_

_I try. "Right? I mean, if I were you and I had just said that to me, I would be making out with me pretty hardcore."_

_You shrug. "Okay." And then you quite literally jump me. You kiss up my stomach, inch by inch as you raise my t-shirt. When I sit up to take it off, you make me flip over, and kiss me again, from the bottom of my back all the way up to my shoulders. You're taking your time and it's driving me crazy, mostly because I want you to keep taking your time—the press of your lips against my skin feels so good. But then sometimes you'll part your lips and I'll feel your tongue, just brushing ever so lightly against me and that makes me need to get this done right now. Then all of a sudden, you damn near kill me when you stop and raise your head. "You know what we should do?"_

_Uh, yeah: each other. We should do exactly what we were just about to do. "The nasty."_

"_You know, sometimes you still sound like the boy you were at fifteen who had only had sex with himself."_

"_Bella, deep down inside, I will always _be_ the boy I was at fifteen who had only had sex with himself," I tell you. It's a joke, but it's also kind of true. I motion for you to move off me as I roll over to face you. "What should we do?"_

"_We should call everyone and tell them we got engaged."_

_I love sex. I really do and I really love sex with you. But listening to you call and tell everyone we know that you've agreed to marry me, that somehow I'm the lucky bastard who gets to keep your promises and own your vows and enjoy your insanity—I _really_ fucking want to do that._

_I make you tell everyone we're engaged every time because I love hearing the words. Even after we've called about twenty people, I'm still flying high. I'm Leo in _Titanic, _I'm the king of the world. I'm Eastwood in _Dirty Harry_ and fuck yes, you went ahead and made my day. _

_Right now, we're on speakerphone with Alice and Jasper. Alice had to know every single detail, of course, after mentioning that she called it about eight hundred times. She didn't quite get the proposal, but I didn't expect her to. She's not us. _

"_Oh man, Bella. The biggest emotional cynic in the world is now a future bride," she says. "It both baffles and enthralls me."_

_"Hey," I say. "She is not the most_ _emotionally cynical person in the world."_

_"Thank you," you tell me, smiling._

_"That's true," Jasper agrees. "Alanis Morissette is still alive, isn't she?"_

"_Hardy har har," you mutter. _

_But Alice has already jumped ten steps ahead. "Bella, we've got to get you a dress! I'll start booking appointments. And are you going to have Rose as your maid of honor? Because then I'll have you as my maid-of-honor and it'll be perfect! We can all get turns as MoHs! And where do you want to get married? How many bridesmaids are you going to have? Do you want a hotel or a church?"_

_As she prattles on, your eyes grow wider and wider and I quickly say goodbye and hang up before Alice somehow talks me out of a wife._

"_That…" you mumble nonsensically, still looking at little shell-shocked from Alice's onslaught. "Not you."_

_I'm used to not understanding a lot of what you say and then having to decode it, but this one, I just can't figure out. "What?"_

"That_ is why I was so scared of getting married… not anything to do with you."_

_I laugh. "Tell you what, when we're actually getting married, we can give Alice a bunch of bogus information to plan a fake wedding with and then just get married the way we actually want to."_

"_No, it's not that. It's that every person we call, every time I tell someone we're engaged, they're going to be surprised. Like, oh my god, Bella is such a giant bitch. She couldn't even muster up enough enthusiasm about her relationship to make us think it'd actually last."_

_I can't stand to think that anyone made you feel like you were like that, because you're not. So I give you sage advice my father once gave me. "Opinions are like assholes."_

"_Everyone has one?"_

"_Yes… and they're usually full of shit." I pull you to my side and kiss your temple. "Does it really bother you? You know I've never cared about any of that—i__n fact, I've never even thought about that."_

_You give me a skeptical look. "So you mean in all the years we were friends, you never thought it was weird that I didn't have any serious relationships?"_

"_Nope." I didn't. For a second, I think that I might not have liked it too much if you _had_ had a serious relationship but then I realize I'm looking at that from the point of view of your boyfriend—_fiancé_. I don't think it would have bothered me back when we were just friends._

"_And you didn't agree whenever people called me emotionless?"_

_I roll my eyes. "Emotionless? That time you broke your foot, you cried in gratitude when I brought you donuts from Chino's."_

"_Food brings out the best in me." I huff. "Food and you, of course."_

_I smile, placated and then frown at myself. "Jesus, I'm whipped."_

_Your expression softens and you gently run your nose along my jawline. It makes me shiver and I try to hide it, but you notice anyway. And I notice you notice, the way you look at me like you couldn't ask for anything more than me. Your eyes are switches; they turn me on, they light me up._

_Quietly, almost shyly, you admit, "I really like that you're whipped."_

_And when you say something like that, I don't want to be Leo or Dirty Harry; I'm happier right here, next to you. And when you lean over and gently kiss me, in that way where you suck on my bottom lip and bite it just a little as you press your body up against me, I really like that I'm whipped too._

* * *

One more chapter and the epilogue to come. The end (and the proposal) is nigh. Thanks for reading! Leave me a note here or chat with me on Twitter—I'm whatsmynom. I'm probably stalking your tweets anyway...


	6. Chapter 6

Last chapter. Let's see what happens. Hmmmm.

Adoration and thanks to the usual suspects: Kate, Kate, JaimeArkin, Famouslyso, the FGB team, and of course, you.

I'll be donating an o/s to the fund for our lovely, departed friend, Gisella. Because our fandom is kind and caring, a lot of fantastic authors are as well. Please consider donating. Info at .com.

* * *

**The Best Thing I Ever Did**  
Chapter Six.

_We still haven't gotten out of bed since we got back into it, just really enjoying this day off. Tomorrow, the real world will come back but today, today is all about us. _

"_It's so weird that a year ago, we weren't even thinking about this," you say. Your head is on my stomach and I'm playing with pieces of your hair. I'll never understand how you get your hair so soft. I'm about to reply, tell you that I agree, that it feels like we've been together forever and yet this year has gone by so quickly but you're already changing the topic. _

"_Can we invite Jane to the wedding?"_

_Jane, my ex-girlfriend who hates you? "Why do you want to invite _Jane_ of all people?"_

"_I'd really like to just gloat. Gloat in her tiny little face that matches that tiny little body." _

_I laugh. "It might be a little awkward."_

"_Psssh." You wave your hand in the air. "Wait, I can't remember, did you break up with her or did she break up with you?"_

_"I broke up with her—"_

_"Ha!"_

_"—After she cheated on me."_

_"Oh shit. I forgot," you say. All of a sudden, you look at me and I know that look. Something crazy is about to come out. "I'm so sorry, Edward."_

_I raise my eyebrows. "Um, thanks? I mean, I think I'm over it. I think I wound up pretty okay," I say, tapping your left hand. _

_You grin widely and then it's back, that look of crazy disguising itself as concern. "Why would anyone cheat on you? You're so good to everyone. You're so good to me."_

_I chuckle. "That may have been the problem."_

_"Oh."_

_Oh man. There is absolutely no need to go into anything that happened with Jane, especially not how much she hated Bella. "Look—"_

_"No, invite her to our wedding. Invite her and I'll... I'll sit on her! She's so tiny, she'll just be crushed," you say. _

_I crack up. "Alright, alright. I'll consider it."_

_'I'm really hoping she starts some drama," you continue. "Because then I'll whip out some great retort and her stupid tiny head will be left speechless!"_

_"What kind of retort?"_

_"Well, ideally she'd say something like... um," you trail off to think for a moment. "Oh! Like, she'll say 'where do you get off'?' and I'll be like 'right here, bitch'—" You pat my crotch— "where you no longer can!'"_

_I laugh, definitely at and not with you. You do a little victory dance that involves you shimmying on the bed and shooting off finger guns before you blow the smoke away from them and tuck them into fake holsters. _

_I'm not sure whether to kiss you or admit you to the nearest psychiatric hospital but I'll be the first to admit that's one of the things I like most about you._

"_Alright, I'm going to do laundry now," you warn me. "Try and keep it in your pants, Cullen." I laugh. You seem to think I have some strange laundry fetish, but really, it's just you taking care of me, doing these chores that I used to have to do myself, in this place I used to live in by myself. Except now you're here with me and I don't know how to explain what it does to me._

"_Come on, Edward," you mutter, interrupting my thoughts. "Could you at least freaking take off your clothes properly?" You hold up the pants I was wearing yesterday and pull my boxers from inside of them. _

_I roll my eyes. "Sure. You can complain about that but god forbid, you ever do the dishes."_

_Oh, you're good and irritated now. You place your hands on your hips and level a glare at me. "Laundry and vacuuming is my job. Cooking and kitchen stuff is yours. We agreed on this! Would you rather eat cheese every night?"_

"_No, but that's what I'm saying. Cut me some slack!"_

"_I do cut you slack!"_

"_Yelling at me about my boxers in my pants is not cutting me slack. In fact, it's not even my fault!"_

_"How is it not your fault?"_

"_Because _you_ took off my pants last night." I smirk. "Remember?"_

_Your mouth becomes small and immediately your stance softens. "Oh. Yeah. Oops. You know… that was an awfully marital argument we just had."_

_I know you're just changing the subject so I can't gloat but dammit, you're good because I like this new subject a lot. "It is. Very henpecked husband and nagging wife."_

_You narrow your eyes at me and huff, turning back to sorting the laundry. "Who even needs a fancy dress and big ceremony? We're pretty domestic already."_

_And suddenly, I know exactly how to explain why I like you doing our laundry. It's the same reason why I'm so excited to be married to you. I just want you to be a part of my life in as many ways as possible. Simple as that._

— **| —**

Later on, as I consider whether anyone would notice if I helped myself to a fourth slice of cake, I feel an elbow nudge my side gently. I turn towards the person; I was expecting Edward but I see another familiar face I am very fond of, a face that's familiar to his: Carlisle.

"Aren't you the proud papa?" I tease and he nods, smiling widely. He looks so happy, handsome and refined in his tuxedo. He and Edward don't share many features, but that grin, that pure happiness that's like a warm hug—that's definitely been passed down from father to son. I feel it again, that thing my insides do where they sort of wiggle like they're dancing to an LMFAO song; it's that emotions thing I've been doing more and more for the last year. My heart fills with how happy I am for the Cullens, this lovely family that loves me and has become my family. They've even adopted my dad as their own, with Esme and Carlisle convincing him to move out of Forks, where he was pretty lonely, into the same town as them to be closer to me.

"I am a very happy man today," Carlisle says. "A year ago, we didn't know if Rose—or Emmett for that matter—would be okay. But now, look at them." I glance over where Edward and Emmett are dancing enthusiastically—if you can call it that. It really just involves them bending their knees up and down and punching their fists in the air all around their body. Ridiculous doesn't even begin to describe how it looks. "But now," Carlisle continues, "Look at my whole family! They're all happy. Rose and Em, Alice and Jasper, you and Edward... even Charlie seems to be having a great time."

Surprised, I look over to where Carlisle is discreetly pointing and see my father dancing with a pretty brunette. They're sort of far apart and awkward, to be honest—they would fit in at those awkward middle school dances where teachers made you put three feet of space between you and your partner—but my dad looks like he's having a good time. He looks at ease. A lot like me lately, if I think about it.

I turn back to Carlisle, eyebrows raised.

He beams at me. "Her name is Sue; her husband died a few years back and she was Rose's favorite teacher in high school."

"And I should know all this because..."

"Esme and I are having her over for dinner next week." He clears his throats and then mumbles, almost too quickly for me to hear, "Andyourfatherisinvitedtoo."

I narrow my eyes at him playfully. "Are you setting my dad up?"

He nods once, emphatically. "Absolutely. Everyone else is settling down, and I think Sue'd be pretty lucky to have a great guy like your dad."

For some reason, this reminds me of Edward—how last year, when Rose and Emmett were awkwardly toeing around getting back together, he was the one that gave them both the final push. "You really are your son's father."

"I should hope so." He chuckles. "Otherwise, Esme's got some 'splainin' to do."

"Who is saying what about me?" Esme asks, coming up from behind us.

Carlisle smiles warmly and slips his arm around her waist. "Nothing dear, just questioning Edward's paternity."

"Oh, in that case, carry on." She kisses him on the cheek. "Wouldn't want to spoil the fun."

"The fun? The questioning of the fidelity of our thirty year-long marriage is fun?" he asks in mock outrage.

Esme gives him a sly smile. "You know what they say, sweetheart. It's not paranoia if it's true." She smiles at me. "You look beautiful, Bella."

I look down and smooth the dress out, more comfortable than I thought I'd be outside of my normal casual clothes. "Well, I heard you were responsible for eliminating lavender as a bridesmaids' dress color choice, so thank you."

"I heard you were responsible for eliminating the Star Wars theme song as a wedding song choice, so really, I should be thanking you. Though that's not much less of an embarrassment than _Taylor Swift_." She spits the name out with so much vitriol that it makes me laugh.

I genuinely don't think they could get any more awesome. But then Carlisle holds up one hand and says, "Ima let you finish… but Rosalie had one of the best wedding songs of all time."

I break into fits of laughter as Esme just looks at him, flabbergasted. "What did I marry?" she asks before cracking up herself. After a few moments, she turns to me. "Speaking of things we were totally not talking about, a little birdie told me you might be maybe possibly sort of kind of marrying a certain son of mine?"

Carlisle lets out a guffaw as I laughingly groan. I guess I hadn't really considered that Edward would tell his parents that he was going to propose, even though I should have known he would. I tell them this.

"Bella," Esme says, slipping her arm around my shoulders. "This is _Edward_ we're talking about. When he was in third grade and had to make his first Valentine for the first girl he ever had a crush on, he cut up my favorite red silk dress because he couldn't give her _just_ red construction paper. This is him _proposing_. And it's you; I can't imagine there's something more important to him. He took the family ring—" She holds up her left hand, which only has her wedding band and I gasp. "Oh, sweetheart, no. It is the deal with all women who become Cullens, so I guess it's good I tell you. You get the family ring until the next Cullen lady joins the family—" She pinches Carlisle in the side and sing-songs, "And then you get a new one."

"Sweet deal," I say, grinning.

She bursts into a mega-watt smile. "I know!"

"You know he's already talked to Charlie, right?" Carlisle asks, rolling his eyes fondly at Esme.

I shake my head. "No, I didn't."

"Turns out we may have raised him a little too properly," Carlisle jokes.

Esme shushes him. "Edward tried to act like he wasn't a romantic little idiot for awhile, but then you two kicked things off and he just gave up bothering to hide it."

I smile to myself at how well she knows her son. "Idiot is right. I love him but he's so romantic sometimes, it's stupid."

"Ahhh, but it's so romantic: he's stupid sometimes but you love him," Carlisle says wisely. I give him a wry grin as Esme excuses herself to go put Martha Stewart to shame.

"So about Edward's proposal—"

He cuts me off. "Nope. Don't ask me. I don't know anything. I'm just here to give advice, encouragement and the birds and the bees talk."

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. "You gave Edward the sex talk? He's twenty eight!" And well… he's got the gist of it pretty damn well.

Carlisle shrugs. "I had to! If I don't embarrass my kids every few weeks, they'll revoke my status as a parent. You heard my speech—today was Rose's turn."

I laugh. "So you really don't know how he's going to propose?"

"No, and even if I did I wouldn't tell you. Like I said: you kids—all six of you—your happiness is what is important to me. I don't care how it happens, just that you get happy."

And suddenly, I know exactly how I can make that happen.

—|—

I am itching to put my plan into action, to get happy as Carlisle put it. But Edward and I are hardly alone the entire night, always surrounded by friends and family. We just fall into bed somewhere around 2am. I'm not a morning person so there's no way I'm doing it when I wake up the next day. Finally, _finally_, after we drop Alice and Jasper off at their apartment and get back to our place in the afternoon, I can't wait a minute longer.

And I mean that quite literally, as I don't even want to wait the minute it takes to get into our apartment.

"Edward," I say, hooking my hand into the outer pocket of his coat. I pull him to me and kiss him. He kisses me back, easily and immediately. It's just another thing I love about him. He always, always kisses back.

Without moving my lips away from his, I feel around his body, searching for pockets and things that might be in them.

He pulls away slightly, his arms still around me. "Are you giving me a pat down?"

"No, I'm looking for something," I say, unbuttoning his coat. He shivers a little, and though it might be from the cold, it also might be from the way my hands slide along his warm body.

In the breast pocket, I feel it. A small, square-shaped lump. I pull it out before he can stop me.

"Bella—"

"No, Edward, just listen: I'm so in love with you, it makes me dumb. Dumb_er_. You make everything better. Brighter. Happier. You make everything more '-er' in general. And I'm not romantic or sweet like you but—"

"Bella, seriously, listen—"

But I have to say this. I tug on the end of the horrible scarf he's wearing, the one I made him for Christmas years ago. I attempted to knit it but gave up halfway through and instead just tied knots at the unfinished ends of the wool. Maybe the reason he still has it is because even a homeless person would reject it if he tried to give it to them, but he wears it because _I_ made it for him.

I see happiness, and he's standing right in front of me.

"I thought I had to wait for you to propose I though _you_ had to propose, but you don't need to and I don't have to wait," I tell him.

"Bel—"

"Edward, will you marry me?"

He starts laughing and puts his hands on my face, tilting it up to him so our lips can touch. Against his still-laughing lips, I ask, "Is that a yes?"

He chuckles again. "Give me five minutes, okay?"

I frown. "Is that a no?"

He laughs again. "Just… come with me."

Just as we're getting to the little hallway that leads to the front door of our apartment, Edward tugs on my hand, pulling me slowly towards him. I'm not sure what's going on; why he asked me to wait or hasn't given me an answer yet. But it's Edward, and I trust him as much as I love him.

He undoes the tie on my coat and pulls the two sides apart, revealing my clothes underneath. He gently runs the back of his fingers over my stomach before sliding it to gently hold my hip and the look in his eyes blows me away. I can't forget the way he looked at me when I was walking down the aisle to him during the wedding yesterday. The way he slid his fingers across my shoulders and down my bare back when we were dancing, the way he toyed with the zipper on the edge of my hip, as if he was only just controlling himself from pulling it down, even though we were in the middle of all those people. It was so loving, so sexy that it made me want to wear dresses every day, just to get him to look at me like that. But now I realize that was nothing compared to the way he's gazing at me right now. The brush of his thumb on my bare skin in the sliver of space between my shirt and my pants is so gentle, so slight but it tells me just how precious I am to him.

"You're so beautiful, Bella," he says, quietly, slowly, almost in a trance. He's acting so strange. He looks up at me and smiles, shaking his head slightly, as if he can read my thoughts. "Sorry… it's just… you are. You're so beautiful and I don't think I tell you that enough."

I let out a soft laugh. I've never once wondered if I was beautiful to him. "Edward, you don't have to tell me that. You already show—"

"No, I do. I mean, I think it everyday. All the time, I think that you're beautiful and messy and funny and real and I'm so glad you're with me. I want to say I don't deserve you but… I love you. So much. I love you so much and I just want to be so good to you, so it makes me think that maybe I do deserve you. I'm trying to, at least."

My chest constricts and I feel like I can't breathe in the best way. I tell him this and add, "Who knew asphyxia could feel so good?"

"Anyone who participates in autoerotic asphyxiation," he retorts.

"That's a good point. Also, I really sort of sucked the romance out of the moment, didn't I?"

"You wouldn't be you if you didn't. And I wouldn't want you if you weren't you," he says, grinning.

"How strangely complimentary and insulting at the same time," I reply and he snickers. But his words are too lovely to be passed over by a joke; maybe I would have done that once upon a time, as recently as a year ago. But his sincerity, his love, they've made me realize one thing.

"It's me who doesn't deserve you, by the way," I say quietly and then, he's right there with me, serious and so sweet. "But I have you and I'm just selfish enough not to care."

He smiles. "Stay selfish. Stay beautiful and stay not caring about being beautiful—that's one of the best things about you. But it doesn't mean I shouldn't tell you that you are."

Something is in the air, I can feel it. I've never seen Edward so jittery, almost erratic in the way he switches from playful and relaxed to earnest and sincere. Suddenly, I realize: this is why he asked me to wait. This is why he hasn't answered yet, this is why he's so nervous.

He's about to propose.

I don't want him nervous; I don't want him anything but happy, so I take his face in my hands and tell him firmly, "You don't have to say I'm beautiful to tell me."

He smiles, looking down and there it is, that blush, right at the top of his cheeks. It's so rare and one of my favorite things and I want to marry him so badly right now, if only to make sure I get to see every time he blushes like that. If only to spend the rest of my life making him blush like that.

"Edward," I say, quietly, my voice shaking and suddenly, I'm the nervous one. But like always, he's right there, knowing me better than I know myself.

"Let's go inside," he says, smiling gently. I smile back and it's that same one we shared when I first told him to propose. I open the door and walk in; I'm not sure what I was expecting but our apartment looks pretty much like it always does.

Except for a few strange things.

There's a plate of spaghetti and meatballs on the dining table. A slice of wedding cake on the coffee table. Edward hands me the book he told me to read, the one whose ending I spoiled for him.

I look at him, quizzically. "What is all this?"

Pieces are falling together now. Everything is something I've mentioned in the last week. A way that I joked Edward should propose to me. I would bet a million dollars that I have texts and emails that ask one question.

And then, I hear the muted blend of harmonious voices. My eyes grow wide and I start laughing. I walk to the window and open it and pop my head out.

Sure enough, there they are. The doo-wop group from the subway station, singing out on the street up to us, crooning, "darling, darling, stand by me". Edward sticks his head out next to me and one of the guys gives him a thumbs up. I turn to look at him; he's grinning widely and he gives a thumbs up back.

"How did…" I shake my head. I don't even need to know how he did this. It's amazing just that he did.

Edward moves away from the window and I do too, turning away just in time to see him get down on one knee, grinning so hard that his eyes are all crinkly and small. He's laughing and it's the best kind of happy; the one where you don't need to say anything. It's all in the little wrinkles by his eyes, that slight dimple at the corner of his mouth, the stretch of his bottom lip across the bright, white of his teeth. He's perfect and he's mine. And he's only about to become more mine and more perfect.

I never thought I'd be the type of girl that cried when she got proposed to. And I'm not; I'm smiling and I'm laughing and I have one hand over my mouth and I know now, this is real happiness. It leaves no room for any of my doubt or cynicism. It makes cheesy harmonies the perfect soundtrack for the best moment of my life. It turns meatballs into romantic gestures and silly, passing jokes into the most serious question of all. This is utter happiness, this is real love. This is what Edward gives me.

"Bella," he says and I giggle. I can't help it. Apparently, happy borders on silly and crazy. He giggles too, and he covers his eyes with one hand. "Oh my god, I've gone blank. I've totally forgotten what I am supposed to say."

"It's okay," I reply.

"I've been practicing this in my head all day. All _week_. And now I can't remember a word." But he's still grinning, and I think it's all the more perfect that it's not perfect at all.

I reach down and pull his hand away from his eyes. "Say anything, Edward." I shrug. "It's always going to be perfect if it's you."

He nods, encouraged by my faith in him, and continues. "Bella. You're… amazing. You deserve to be proposed to in any way your crazy brain can come up with. You deserve to be proposed to every day. You deserve anything you want, _every _thing you want, and for some reason, I'm lucky enough to be one of those things. So have me. Marry me. Let me be your best friend and your boyfriend and your fiancé and your husband and anything in the world I can possibly be to you. Just let me be close to you, always. Marry me." He screws his eyes shut and bites his lip. "Crap, I said that already."

"Say it again," I tell him. "Third time's a charm."

"Bella," he says, looking right at me. He's serious again, and I am, too. My heart is pounding as he takes my hand in one of his, and pulls the ring box out of his pocket with the other. I don't even look at the ring; nothing in the world, not even my engagement ring, could make me look away from Edward's eyes right now. "Marry me, Bella. Let's be this happy for the rest of our lives."

"Of course!" I say, because, well, of course, I'm going to marry him. The motion is so fast, but all of a sudden, there's a ring on my finger; I am officially someone's. I am officially Edward's. I'm engaged and it feels amazing. Edward stands up and sweeps me into his arms, saying "really?" against my mouth as he kisses me, and I say "yes" back a million times. He's asked and I just can't stop saying 'yes'. But the question and my answers are just formalities because after that night almost exactly a year ago, this was where we were bound to end up.

Our kisses go from celebratory to passionate and I'm unbuttoning his coat when I realize that the front door is still open. I tell him this and move to shut it as I hear him go to the window to tell and the doo-wop group that they did good, mission accomplished.

I've just closed the door when he's behind me again, grabbing me around the waist and tossing me over his shoulder, making me shriek. I've still got my purse on though, so he helps me take it off and then with me still on his shoulder, walks to the bedroom and I think:

If every moment with Edward can be even one-thousandth as fun and happy and full of love as this one, I'm in for a very good life.

* * *

And now we're caught up to the EPOV from chapter one.

So was that worth having to read five chapters of nonsense? Yes? If not, let's see if I can make it up to you with the epilogue.

Thanks for all the love 'n stuff, guys. Tell me things. I love hearing from you.


	7. Epilogue

Thank you everyone who has read, reviewed, commented, recced or even just chatted with me on Twitter. My lovely FGB team, I forever appreciate the chance to write these two again and your generosity. Kate B, thanks for putting up with my crap and disagreeing with on enough things to keep our friendship so interesting; Kate S, thanks for being a friend and a cheerleader. Famouslyso for always making pretty things, and JaimeArkin, for being the sweetest person in the fandom.

I'm not sure if I'll write more of these two; maybe an outtake or two. I will be writing some non-TBIEH stuff, so if you're interested in that, put me on alert.

I took some liberties with some of the mechanics of one particular thing that happens in this chapter. Call it artistic license, or call it sloppiness, but I hope it doesn't spoil the chapter for you.

Anywayyyyyyyyy, without further ado:

* * *

**The Best Thing I Ever Did**_._

Epilogue.

"_Is it ironic that despite everyone saying that I'm the most commitment-phobic, non-feeling person in the world, I got engaged the fastest?" you ask, dumping clothes from the washer into the dryer._

_I shrug. "It's something, but I don't know if it's ironic."_

"_Maybe it's Alanis Morissette-type ironic."_

"_Which is to say, not actually ironic at all?"_

"_Exactly. Oh, Alanis… my sister cynic." You let out a short, barking laughing._

"_That makes you sound like sister-wives."_

"_That's exactly what we are. Except instead of sharing a real husband, we just pass around the voodoo dolls of men we've known to stick pins into."_

_You joke, but I see it in the way your mouth twitches a little. I see how much you don't want to be that person. And I see everyday how much you aren't that person. Me, us living together, that ring on your finger, it's all proof; you've got so much love in you. _

_"See here's the thing about you," I tell you, just blurting out everything I'm thinking as I walk over and slip my arms around you from behind. You turn to face me. "You think you're some misanthropic, socially repugnant witch... but you're not. We joke about it, sure but you're not that. At all. You're funny, and you love people in this quiet, ferocious way. You never even have to say 'I love you' to anyone. They just know." I've always known. "That's how strong you do it." _

_"Edward..." you start, and I love the way you gently push my shoulder away as if to make me stop but then let your hand slide to my chest, where you fist my shirt and pull me back to you. There it is: the way you love me is in that gesture, in that handful of t-shirt that could easily be my heart. _

_"What you are is a skin-deep cynic," I continue. "A pessimist who is just looking for any chance to be proven wrong. Because then not only is your real, deep-down-inside faith in people is affirmed, but you also get to be grumpy because you hate being wrong but you love an excuse to be grumpy. And I'll always be there to do that." _

_"Make me grumpy?" you ask, unable to resist teasing me. I never want you to. _

_I laugh. "Yeah. I'll be there to prove you wrong, make you happy about being proven wrong and then make you grumpy about being happy." _

_"Edward?" Your lips curve up perfectly and there's something in your eyes, this look; I have no idea what you're going to say next and I can't wait to find out. _

_"Yeah?" _

_"I want to marry you." _

_I smile and tug on your left ring finger. "Pretty sure you know I feel the same way." _

_"No... I want to marry you right now."_

_Like I'm going to say no to that. _

_The pieces fall so smoothly into place that it's like this is exactly how it is supposed to happen. My parents drive down with Charlie; Renee's already in town; Garrett and Kate cancel their sitter and bring the baby and Alice and Jasper are free. We manage to drag Rose and Emmett away from honeymooning bliss long enough to get them on Skype on Jasper's ever-present iPad and we get an appointment down at city hall. And so, that evening, almost exactly a year to the moment I leaned over and kissed you and started all this, we get married. _

_You don't walk down an aisle because I'd always rather you be next to me. Your father doesn't give you away because I don't want to take you; I just want to have you. You wear this white dress that is safety-pinned in the back because the last time you wore it, I pretty much ripped it off you—whoops. Nothing about this wedding is planned or traditional, but everything about it is us. It may just be a small, five minute formality at city hall, but it still feels like the most important thing I've ever done._

_Maybe other girls cry at their wedding and at their husband's words, but you just smile because nothing I say is a surprise. We've always known this, always known everything about each other, even before that very first time I leaned over and kissed you on what seemed like impulse, but I now realize was instinct. _

_After that whole discussion about vows, we barely give ourselves time to write them. I tell you this and you laugh. "Wing it," you say, shrugging. Then you smile and it's so devious. "Just know that your love for me will be judged by these words for the rest of our lives."_

"N_o pressure then."_

"_Ehh, it's just always. NBD."_

_So when it comes time for our vows, I take your hand and kiss it, holding it to my chest as I speak. "If you're a bird, I'm a bird," I tell you. You start to laugh as Jasper says, "Dude, that's not even your own line! Be original!"_

_I turn around and tell him to shut up and he grins back. I turn back to you and continue, "As I was saying: if you're a bird, I'm a bird. And if you are a dog, I'm a dog." I can hear the others murmuring, getting a little confused about my vows, but you're laughing so that's all that matters to me. "I can't wait to be married to you for ten years. For fifty years. I can't wait to be married to you longer that I wasn't married to you. And the only thing I want to vow to you is that I'm going to be in love with you for the rest of my life, Bella, and I'm really, really excited to do that."_

_Like I said: you're not the type to bawl at a wedding, even your own. But a few tears do sneak out, even as you're laughing, and Charlie has to hand you his handkerchief because you're this lovely, ridiculous, perfect mess. You hold up your hand and take a minute before you say your own vows. _

_And what you say makes me want to marry you a million times over. _

"_Hi," you say, and we both laugh. "I'm not good with all the sentiments and words. But I—I'm the luckiest girl in the world, Edward. A lot of people marry the person they love most. And yeah, I get to do that but I'm so, so lucky because I get to marry the person I _like_ most in the world." You grin and reach over, grabbing my lapel to pull me a little closer, as if you can't even stand to be even this little apart for the few minutes till we're married. I know exactly how you feel. "And if you'll let me, I'll spend the rest of my life liking you."_

_Your words are amazing, they really are. __But the truth is, your smile is the only vow I need._

_When we kiss for the first time as husband and wife, it's kind of sloppy, since we're laughing and there are a couple tears hanging like stalactites on the bottom of your chin. __It's still perfect. __When we pull apart, I hug you to me, loving how you shriek a little when I lift you off the ground. _

_"Are you happy?" I ask you. That's all I ever want._

"_I'm really, really happy," you assure me as I lower you back to the ground. You wipe at your face with the heel of your palm and give me a huge smile._

"_Like 'Surprise! There's actually second tray of truffles under the first one in this box' happy?" I ask you and you burst into laughter._

"_Yeah," you say, grinning. "Except way more than that. You, Edward Cullen, are like getting a never-ending box of truffles. For the rest of my life."_

_It barely makes sense but I know you well enough to know that there couldn't be higher praise._

—|—

"_Dating for a year, engaged for one day and now married," Mom says, smiling proudly. "You two were always meant to be."_

_You and I exchange a sly look; we're not rude enough to roll our eyes at my mother, but the sentiment is still there. It's amazing how after we've gotten together, everyone has rewritten history to make it seem like we were always in love with each other._

"_I don't know about _always_," I say._

"_The last year," you say. Then shyly, because declarations of emotion are still not your thing, you quietly add, "And every year from now."_

_I smile at you and tighten my arm around you, kissing your temple._

_My mother watches our exchange fondly. "You two are either lying to us or lying to yourselves if you think that how long it's been. It's been much, much longer."_

_Now I have to roll my eyes. "Oh yeah, I forgot, we exchanged promise umbilical cords in the womb."_

"_Don't be facetious, Edward," she says, but she's fighting a smile._

_I grin back at her. "Don't be hyperbolic, Mom."_

"_Don't talk back to your mother, Edward," Dad interrupts calmly. Mom beams at him and he kisses her on the cheek. "Even if she is being hyperbolic." She pulls a face, and we all laugh. If every day could just be like this, with my family and my friends and you, I don't think I could want anything more._

"_I guess after seven years of being friends, you don't want to waste any more time," Dad says._

_You shrug. "It's not that. We haven't ever wasted time, not to me," you say, poking me in the stomach. I recoil because you hit that ticklish spot only you know I have. "Someone once told me," you continue, smiling. "That when you know, you know. And if you know you know then there's no reason to say no." You turn to me. "Y'know?"_

_I grin because I know. You smile back because you knew I knew._

_Mom and Dad walk away, shaking their heads in equal parts exasperation and affection, and Alice herds everyone out of the courtroom. They all head out to go to catch cabs to the restaurant for a celebration dinner but you and I hang back, staying in the room for a little longer. I slip my arm around your shoulder and you slip both of yours around my waist, hugging me tightly to you. We're silent for a few moments as we watch other couples get married. Like we just did. All these people pledging themselves to each other; we're all so different, but for this one thing, we're all here and we're all the same. It's pretty amazing. _

_As if you're thinking the same thing, you say, "Wow. We got _married_."_

_I chuckle. "We did."_

"_Doesn't change anything, though," you say, stretching your neck to rest your chin on my shoulder._

"_It doesn't?" I turn my head to look down at you. You're so pretty in that dress, even though it's totally inappropriate for how cold it is outside. Your lips are red because they're chapped and you keep biting at them. You've got the beginnings of a hickey on your collarbone, remnants of last night, and the way you're smiling at me—god. Your vows were spot on. I like you. I like you so, so much. _

"_No, nothing's going to change." You go on your tiptoes to kiss me gently. "That's a promise."_

_I couldn't ask for more._

_What you said to my mom was absolutely right; I've never felt like the time before we got together was wasted. It was just us being us. Just like we are now, but with the sex and couple stuff. __I guess that's why we work. With you and me, nothing is ever wasted. As long as it's us, Edward and Bella, with our friends or by ourselves, hanging out or making out, in our bar or at our wedding or on our bed, it doesn't matter; it just doesn't get better than that._

_In the din of other people's promises of love, I give you silent one of my own, hoping you'll hear it when I lean down to kiss you. In the end, it's just us that matters._

_But the best thing is: we're nowhere near the end._

—|—

_I manage to convince you to walk out the front entrance of city hall, instead of the back where the cabs are. You're protesting, asking me why, never letting me get anything the easy way and I love it. But I have something planned._

_When we get outside, it's snowing lightly. You laugh when you hear the music, covering your mouth with your hands as you see the same doo-wop group from the subway harmonizing to the Wedding March. You throw your head back and laugh before turning to me. "Do you have these guys on retainer or something?"_

_I shrug. I'm not going to reveal my secrets, because it's a hell of a lot more romantic to have doo wop groups show up out of nowhere than explain to you that explain that I have Caius, the half-blind lead singer's phone number. _

"_Alright, now I'm going to _really_ embarrass you," I tell you. _

_Your eyes grow wide and you look wary, but not scared. You are finally completely ready for whatever I throw at you. "What is it?"_

_I nod at Caius and with a signal of his hand, the quartet smoothly transitions into what I told them was our wedding song. I turn you to face me, placing one of your hands on my shoulder as I grab the other one and we begin dancing, right there there, next to the entrance of City Hall, to the melodic strains of… the Thong Song. _

_You bury your face in my thick coat, but you're laughing so hard I can still feel it through all the layers. When you look up at me, you shrug. "Well, I'm the idiot who said I wanted this as my wedding song."_

"_Aren't you lucky you have a boyfriend who will do this stuff for you?" I ask._

_You grin and lean up on your tiptoes to kiss me quickly, but softly. "Not boyfriend. Husband. And I am."_

_And there, with half of the street smiling at us, and the other half staring at us like we're crazy as we dance, I am finally as married to you as I actually feel. _

—|—

_Part of me can hardly believe what happened today._

_It all worked out perfectly in a totally roundabout way, but that's how it is with us. But it's so fitting that it was today. Valentine's Day means something to everyone else, but for you and me, it's the night before. That's when it all started one year ago, and tonight we've started something new all over again._

_We've been celebrating with everyone so I'm a little drunk but luckily not so drunk that I can't act on it. You are a bit tipsy, too, I can tell from your glazed smile. I remember one of the first times I met you—I found those tipsy giggles fucking adorable. Years later, you're still giggling and I'm still adoring._

_We stumble into the bedroom, knocking stuff over and not caring as long as some part of me is on you and some part of you is on me. Right now, it's my fingers, sliding your dress up your leg and slipping into your underwear, and your hand in my hair, scratching my scalp. _

_I think about that first time I kissed you; realizing I wanted you was the best thing that's ever happened to me, leaning in to kiss you is the smartest, craziest, best thing I ever did. _

_I think I might have known it right then, that night even though I stand by what I thought earlier, what you said. I've never once thought we wasted time being just friends, but still, it feels like that was another Edward, one who was just waiting for something he didn't realize was sitting across from him at the bar most nights or stealing the pieces of cookie dough from his ice cream._

_I've been lost in my thoughts, but you, my smart, sweet girl, you're so, so much sweeter, so much smarter than I am. You've gotten rid of most of our clothes because you know the way every single one of my shirts unbutton. You know how to kiss me to make me fall into pieces, with your tongue slowly licking my bottom lip where you've pulled it into your mouth and you know just how to touch me and put me back together again. You know that this is the pair of pants you have to shimmy down my ass a bit because they're tight and I hate them but you love the way I look in them, so I still wear them. _

_You kiss like no one else, like you're making love—and I hate that term. But that's what you kiss like; when your lips are on mine, it's like we're in a dark room with the curtains drawn and it's just us in this world and nothing else matters. You push me on to the bed on my back, and god, I love you so much. How well you know me, how you put up with me, how you're stumbling as you yank on my pants, trying to get them over my feet, forgetting that my shoes are still on. __Before you fall and hurt yourself, I sit up, grabbing your hips and pulling you so you're standing right in front of me. As I toe off my shoes and kick my pants away, I kiss the space below your belly button. Your skin tastes so good; you're so sweet, so beautiful, so warm, so hot. And you're making these noises that are better than anything in my wildest dreams because dreams are fake and you, from your soft, smooth skin to the way you hiccup a little because champagne makes you do that, is so real._

_I slide your dress off your shoulders, letting it fall to the ground in a pool of white and hold on to your hips as you step out of it. Then I fall back onto the bed and just look up at you. You grin down at me and I can barely believe it. You're with me, for the rest of our lives. It's strange because I keep waiting to be surprised. First, you went from Bella, my friend to Bella, my girlfriend, but it felt completely natural. Then you moved in with me, but it was almost like you'd been there all along. And now… you're my wife. _My wife_. And it's just like it was before and it's just like everything else is with you: perfect._

_There is something that astounds me about us when we're like this. We have enough sex that it should be gone by now,__ that utter need to touch you and be touched by you. It should have lessened, but it never does. But as you straddle me, naked and moving in a way that's almost there but not quite, a way that gets me closer with each shift of your hips, each sound that you make, I stop thinking about that. Th__e things your skin, your body does to me are too good to let me think about anything but you._

_I go with it, rolling my hips in time with yours, moving the way your body is telling me to. I touch you when that little furrow in your brow tells me you need to be touched, and when your bottom lip disappears under your teeth, I go a little faster with a little more force. It's not that it's all about you; it's that you give me something every time, every day, every moment, and I'd be an idiot not to give something back to you. _

_Something, anything, everything for you. _

—|—

_When I look back on that night, I'd like to say that I knew it was special. That it was laughing and magic and the best of what was already the best in my life. _

_It was. _

_But that is pretty much every night with you._

* * *

Thanks for reading, guys. You're the best.


End file.
